“Ah, they’re green,” Mason kids in regards to the color of my eyes. He’s such a shit-stirrer.
“Y’all are ridiculous. What about the sunflower seeds?”
“Killing the washer. This is the money for washing our clothes and fixing the washer.” They sit down and start eating. I meet Deacon’s eyes, and I want to be mad, but I can pay off the credit card I used to pay the repair bill.
“It’s early to be paying me for the month. I’ve washed your clothes once.”
“Yeah, we aren’t allowed to let you wash our stuff anymore.” My blood boils. I can feel it bubbling, begging to melt my skin and explode all over Deacon.
“Take Julie in the kitchen, please.” My voice is strained from keeping my cool. “All of you, minus Deacon.”
“Someone is in trouble.”
“Mason!” I can’t deal with his childish ass in this moment. How dare he do this? I’m going to commit my first crime, and it’s a felony. Premeditation and all. Let me count the ways I’m envisioning killing him. I wonder if I’ll get sent to an all women’s prison. I don’t know. Will the punishment be worse for killing an affluent kid? A father? I don’t care; I’ll take my chances.
They scurry like cockroaches, and I face the object of my anger. “How dare you?”
“How dare I what?”
“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”
“I didn’t. I told them.” I push off the floor and stomp to him.
“Same difference.” I poke his chest. “I appreciate,” poke, “you making them,” jab, “pay for the repair,” push, jab, poke. “But that is part of,” both hands on chest and shove, “running a business.” I wipe the sweat from my forehead, I’m boiling. “Paying for overhead.” Point my finger, “I don’t need charity.”
“It’s not charity. Their shit broke it, they pay to fix it.”
“You can’t take my customers. I’ll go to the dorms and get new ones.” I smirk at him. Mr. Control Freak doesn’t like that one bit.
“No way. You don’t need to be someone’s maid, Saylor.”
“You don’t know shit, Deacon.”
“I know you don’t need the money, your parents have more than enough to pay for school and housing, but you have a scholarship.”
“My stepdad has money, not me. Not my parents.” I glare at him.
He whips his shirt off and tugs it down over my head. “Saylor, quit being stubborn for one minute and listen.”
“No, you listen! You can’t waltz in my life with your cute baby and six-pack abs. Your chiseled chest and divine ass. You can’t control me.” I’m panting, and I’m not making sense. “Why’d you put your shirt on me?”
“With your damn tits bouncing with every word you speak, all I can think of is burying my face in them, biting, licking, and sucking your nipples in my mouth. When I have you squirming under me, I want to shove my hard as steel dick in your cleavage and fuck your mouth. It’s fucking distracting.”
Holy. Shit. I open my mouth to counter his argument. Close it. Open. Close. I can’t come up with anything to say because my eyes are staring at his chest, the same one I let my tongue roam weeks ago. The same one that has me salivating for a repeat performance. “You’re barbaric.”
“You’re obtuse.”
“You’re an ass.”
“You’re fucking beautiful.” He doesn’t fight fair. My legs circle his waist, my ass in his hands, my lips sealed over his, and my fingers tugging his hair. Our tongues are dueling in each other’s mouth; our chests are mashed together, our moans swallowed between us. His heart is pounding against mine, his cock pressed up against my stomach, his touch calming this madness flowing through my body.
“Who needs to buy porn when we can watch for free.” Damn it, Mason. I disengage myself from his body. He grabs my hand, halting me from moving. We link fingers and weather this onslaught of gawking.
“I’m still washing their clothes.”
He sighs. “No underwear.”
“No deal.”
“Hell yes. We can have clean clothes and go commando. You get all the good girls, Dawg.” Mason is staring down at Julie as he makes the situation less tense.
“No more sunflower seeds.” I look at Mason and Caden and see their smiles.
“We good?” Deacon whispers in my ear.
I nod. “Yeah, we’re good.” I make no effort to move from him. He squeezes the hand he’s holding, and I lean my head back against him. We’re fucking great. But for how long is the question.
Great didn’t last long. An hour, maybe. And that’s being generous. My idea of baby steps was his idea of reverse. He didn’t understand when it was time for him to go home—it would be alone.
“You said we were good?” He stares in shock when I walk him to the door, kiss him and Julie goodnight.
“We are.” I stare and draw my words out for emphasis.
“Why aren’t you coming home with me?”
“Deacon, we don’t know what we are. I agree to quit fighting this, but I don’t agree to jump in headfirst. I want to wade in. Test the waters.”
“I know what we are. You’re mine. We try this thing. You are going to stand there with one foot out ready to run.”
“No, I won’t. I’m not going to have this conversation with you at this moment when your focus needs to be elsewhere.” I nod my head towards Julie.
“She’s six months, Saylor. An argument isn’t going to send her to therapy.”
“She needs to be in bed. Stick to her routine.”
“Be careful. You sound like you care.”
And here we are. It’s been three days with glares, grimaces, grunts—his communication is very mature. “Men are such babies.” Avery giggles as we witness his latest attempt to show me how displeased he is. I wink at her.
Deacon is sitting in his yard watching Julie roll around her blanket under the tree for shade. “Hey honey!” I call to him. Glare with a head nod. “Good day?” Grimace with silence. “Want me to come over in a bit?” Grunt with head shaking. I laugh as I follow Avery in.
“You are going to send him to an early grave.” Avery winks at me.
“Who?” Lee Lee asks digging in the refrigerator.
“Deacon. He has it something bad. I’ve never seen him behave like this.”
Lee Lee drops the bottle of water and gives us her attention. “Like what?”
“Like he’s forgotten to be a human. It’s hilarious.” Avery is finding the same humor in his petulant behavior that I am.
“He loved Adriane. He was crazy in love with her.” Emberlee could have poured ice water over my head and gotten the same reaction.
“No, he didn’t, Lee Lee. Retract your claws. Deacon isn’t hers, was never hers, and you know it.” She takes my hand, pulling me into my room. “Don’t listen to her. She has this fucking infatuation with Adriane that I don’t understand.”
“It’s okay. She’s Julie’s mom.” I have a hard time forcing those words out.
“No, she isn’t. She gave birth, signed the papers, left. She was discharged from the hospital before Julie was.”
“She didn’t see her?”
“Yeah, she did. She stayed in town for a few months. Finished school. Graduated. She didn’t spend time alone with Julie but would come visit when her parents forced her. She had no interest in her.”
“I told Deacon that I don’t understand a mother doing that to her own baby, her flesh and blood.”
“Adriane is conniving. Always has been. It drives me crazy Lee Lee looks up to her, and she uses that to her advantage. She’s missing some kind of chip—it stops her from being human.”
“You hate her?”
“Pretty much. We grew up together, but that girl and I never got along. We tolerated each other for the sake of our friends, but if she took a long walk off a short pier I wouldn’t have shed a tear.”
“Damn, Avery.”
“Yeah, I can be hard core if it’s warranted.”
“Boss ass
bitch.”
“You know it.”
I start laughing. “It may be believable if you didn’t have pastel blue paint across your forehead.” Avery is a painter. She paints every chance she gets . . . and she’s pretty fucking amazing.
“Really?” She’s rubbing her forehead.
“No.” I laugh at her facial expression. “But I have an idea.”
“What?”
“I love that Deacon’s basement is finished. We could do ours for minimal money. I know how to lay tile and hardwood floors. All it needs is paint and some flooring. Cheap furniture, and we’d have a finished basement. Our parties could be moved down there, so our house wouldn’t be trashed.”
“I love it. I want to do a mural.” I smile at her excitement.
“But we’re renting.” Her eyebrows furrow. She stares at me for a minute, and Emberlee shouts for her, and as usual—Avery goes.
I head over to see if the burr is out of my man’s butt. He hasn’t talked to me in three days but hasn’t given me the cold shoulder. He’s texted me good morning and good night after walking over here and giving me a kiss first. He legit walks in, kisses me, walks out, and my phone dings. I’m ready to beat him with his bat.
He and Julie are still outside, and the sun glinting off her mostly bald head shows sprouts of hair coming in. The exact shade of her dad’s. Her eyes—those baby blues—melt my heart. “Hi.” I’m trying to be upbeat. Silence. I sigh, “Deacon, if this continues, I’ll stop trying here.”
“I didn’t realize you ever started.” My eyes roll on their own accord.
“Let’s go in and get her taken care of, and we’ll talk.” He doesn’t speak, but gets up and starts picking her stuff up. As he passes me, he pauses to assault my mouth with his and then continues his stride.
“You coming?” No, I want to shout. And you’ll never make me again if you don’t quit being an asshole.
“Yes, dear.” I smile sweetly at him and follow him inside. I get her bottle ready and warm up her nasty ass baby food. “Go take a shower, I’ll feed her.”
It’s become a routine. Even before I declared we were good—which apparently in his mind is code for shacking up—this was our routine. Now, there should be an added benefit, but there is none. I’m getting none of the Delicious D . . . and that needs to happen sooner rather than later.
She makes me a jumbled mess. I don’t like the way she ties my feelings up and leaves me incapable of dealing. She’s in the kitchen feeding my baby, something her own mother never did, and instead of being happy with what she’s willing to give, I’m pouting because I want more. I crave it. I’m damn near ready to demand it. I don’t see that working so hot for me, but I’m at my limits. My wit’s end.
As the shower massages my overused body, I can’t stop thinking about her sassy mouth. She comes off strong; yet she’s vulnerable. If she had as much faith in her as I do we wouldn’t be at this impasse. She’d just agree to what I want. Thinking of her mouth has my dick hard. It’s become a habit these last days to take matters in my own hands—my right one, to be exact, because it’s dominant. It’s a special form of training—one not included in our workout routine for baseball.
I picture the night I was with her, her blonde locks sprawled against my dark comforter, her eyes hooded as I stared at her from in between her legs, licking her divine pussy. Her hips rising and pressing against my mouth, fucking begging me for release. My hand grips the base of my cock and strokes upwards giving attention to the head.
Stroke.
Tug.
Squeeze.
I hear her moans in my head from that night. My hand speeds up. My balls draw up; I twist the crown and slide my hand back down, applying pressure to the base. On my next upward stroke, I come and watch it swirl and disappear down the drain. That should have taken the edge off, but here I am still sporting a chubby, wanting my girl in my bed.
I walk back to the kitchen after throwing some sweatpants on . . . minus a shirt . . . she likes to play with temptation so much, I’d better join her. She’s just finishing feeding Julie, and there is food scattered everywhere. Glancing at me over her shoulder, “I don’t think she likes carrots.”
“I don’t blame her. Go sit and relax. I’ll bathe her and clean up this mess.”
“I can help.”
“Saylor, for fuck’s sake quit being stubborn.”
“Deacon, for fuck’s sake, quit acting like you’re on your own.” She sighs and starts wiping up the mess. Damn her. I pick Julie up and start her bedtime routine. She must be tuckered out because she doesn’t put up a fight. She allows sleep to claim her. I stare at her for a moment; all the bad in the world can be righted just holding my girl.
I grab a water from the fridge and notice the quiet from the living room. The lights are off, but I notice the lights shining under the basement door. I head down there, ready to clear this shit up. Put all my cards on the table, let it play out, toss her ass in my bed. She’s pulled her hair up, and I want to pull it down. “You couldn’t let it be? You had to clean up the kitchen?”
“Are we really going to fight about a clean kitchen?”
“For starters.” I pin her with a look, and she smirks back.
“You’re spoiling for a war, aren’t you?”
“I’m spoiling for you to clue in. I don’t want you cleaning up after me. You’re eighteen and should be having the time of your life. I’m being selfish enough wanting you, saddling you with the responsibilities I come with, but I don’t want you taking on the duties that aren’t yours.”
“Wow, Deacon. I was under the impression you wanted me to share your life. Be a part of it, all of it, not just the fucking parts you deem acceptable.”
“Whoa. You’re misunderstanding me.”
“Enlighten me.” She crosses her arms. She’s spitting mad.
“I don’t want you to get tired of us. I don’t want to become a burden. I love that little girl and would do anything for her, but I can’t ask the same of you.”
“Isn’t that what you did when you got involved with me? You pushed for this. I took my time because I weighed all the options. It still scares the hell out of me, but you can’t separate the parts of your life you want me involved in. I knew you had Julie. I accepted her. Hell, I think I like her better than you anyways.”
“I pushed for it, and I want it, but I don’t want you to feel you have an obligation.”
She yanks her hair from her ponytail and growls. “You drive me fucking crazy.” Semi to rock hard.
“I like your crazy. It means you care.”
“Yes, you idiot. I care. I don’t know why when you act like this. I know your life isn’t just yours. I had to think long and hard before jumping in to this with you. Just accept it.”
“You make a lot of things long and hard.”
She chuckles, “You sound like Mace.” I smile at her.
“I know there will be learning curves, but I feel like I pull you close, and you push me back.”
“No matter what, Deacon, I was putting you and Julie first. At first, I figured we’d be casual, but after the last couple months, I see that isn’t what you want. I want to help with her. I want to help you. That’s what a relationship means.”
“What changed your mind? You were so against relationships.”
“I was against the pain they bring. Nothing changed my mind, per se. I couldn’t fight it. I gravitate to you. You make my crazy days sane. You make my anger turn into laughter. You wormed your way in here.” Her hand covers her chest. “And your baby is cute. That’s major points.”
“So we’re good.”
“Our definition of that is opposite. I think we’re good, but I’m not moving in. I’m not monopolizing all your time. We’re new. We were barely friends and I want to grow that along with whatever this is,” I point between us. “And no matter what I want you to promise that won’t change.”
I lie. “I promise we’ll always be friends.” There’s no w
ay in hell I’m ever in the friend zone with her. Her eyes narrow at me. “And you don’t have to move in, but I would like sleepovers. Every night.” That’s reasonable.
“Absolutely not. Of course I want to be in your bed but not every night. I’m learning myself, Deacon, and I don’t want to lose all the independence I’ve gained.”
“I can compromise. Five nights a week?”
“I’m not negotiating a pre-set schedule. I can promise it won’t be five nights.” Damn, she tests my patience. I’m wondering if I still have handcuffs here. I’ll trap her ass in this house. “Stop scheming. Are we good?”
“I don’t like your good.”
“You’re crazy.”
“About you.” And that’s fact. I’ve never felt like this, and I’m afraid of letting it fade.
Her smile softens her face. Her eyes sparkle in mischief. “Are we agreeing?”
“No, I’m just giving in. The first of many times I’m sure.” I’m whipped. I’m pussy enough to admit it. “But, don’t tell the guys.”
“Yeah, your street cred and stuff is at risk.” My laughter bubbles out as I bend over holding my stomach.
“Thug life catching up to you?” She follows suit, and we both have tears in our eyes. “You know what happens after a fight?”
“Please tell me make-up sex?”
“Yep.”
“Thank God.” I pick her up, and as I feel her latched to my body, I walk up the stairs and take her to my room. I can’t let my lips touch her, or I’ll fuck her in the hall, and I need her in my bed for what I’m going to do with her. I place her in my bed and start to shut the door, so we don’t wake Julie up when her cries startle us. I rush to her room, and she’s sitting in her crib, big fat tears streaming down her face, her onesie is covered vomit.
Saylor is coming down the hall, and I nod her off. “She’s sick. I’ll clean her and get her settled.”
I pick her up, and she doesn’t feel warm. Maybe it’s just from teething. Taking her to the bathroom, I strip her and wipe her down. Her eyes are closing, and I hurry to get her dressed. I make quick work of her crib sheets one-handed, and she’s fallen asleep. I place her back in the crib, and her eyes open. Projectile vomit all over the place follows. This is going to make for a long night.
Playing Fate (Endgame Series Book 1) Page 9