by Mandi Beck
Not able to wait any longer, I grab the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head, tossing it to the side, leaving her in nothing but that scrap of lace covering what I need inside of. There are twin bows on each of her hips; that’s all that’s standing between me and her sweet, sweet cunt and I want them gone. Tugging first one and then the other, I smile at her pleading moan as she plants her feet and lifts so I can get rid of the barrier completely. She sighs, her eyes closed tight, bottom lip clamped in between her teeth as she waits me out. As much as I would like to draw this out, there’s no way I can. Straightening, I push my pants and boxer briefs down and get them just past my ass when Frankie uses her feet to shove them down further, the two of us working together until they hit the floor. She’s reaching for me, pulling at me desperately, and that’s all it takes to push me right over the fucking edge. Hooking her legs behind her knees, draping them over my forearms as I pull her forward until her ass settles against my thighs, the head of my cock glides through her glistening pussy lips and then back down. The sight mesmerizes me. She’s so fucking wet for me, it coats my cock from base to tip as I repeat the path it just took. I glance up and see that she’s watching, just as enthralled as I am. “You like that, Princess, hmmm? You like seeing your come all over my dick? I fucking love it. I love knowing that I make you so wet that it covers me. I can smell it on me and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
Opening her legs wider to give her a better view, I push forward and slide over her pussy again, lifting her and pulling her forward to create more friction. Her legs tremble. “Please, please, please,” she begs.
“Whose pussy is this?” I hiss in between clenched teeth. Fighting the need to slam into her.
“Yours. It’s your pussy, only yours. Yours, yours, yours,” she chants, closer and closer to losing her fucking mind with wanting to come. That’s all it takes. I throw one of her legs over my shoulder and grab the base of my cock and press against her slit, letting her swallow me up. The muscles of her pussy grabbing at me, clenching my length, encouraging me, welcoming me. She’s so much tighter than I remember. Never did I think that was possible.
“This pussy was made for me. Mmmmmm, so fucking tight around my cock, Frankie. So fucking tight,” I murmur as I surge forward, bottoming out before pulling all the way out and doing it again. I should be gentle—she has a damn concussion for fuck’s sake—but I can’t. I just fucking can’t. My blood sizzles with my need to fuck her stupid.
“Deacon, please. Oh fuck, please. Fuck me. Show me I’m yours. I’m so close. So close,” she cries out in pleasure as I palm one of her tits roughly. Squeezing it, I use it for leverage to hammer into her. Hard, deep thrusts. Sinking into her over and over as my name falls from her lips in gasps. I feel her orgasm rolling through her and slow my movements, making her look at me with wide eyes. She whimpers and rolls her hips trying to make me finish her off.
“You want to come, baby?”
She nods, writhing beneath me as I slowly slide in and out, just the tip, torturing us both. I let her legs fall and pull out of her completely. “Roll over, Princess.” She looks at me a little dazed, so I repeat myself, “Roll over. I want that ass in the air.” As she untangles herself from me to do as I ask, I groan when she flashes that pink at me dripping with her arousal. Jesus fuck, this woman.
I settle behind Frankie and waste no time entering her, pulling back on her hips making us both groan as her ass slaps against my stomach. Nudging her legs wider, I grab a fistful of her hair and pull her upright, my other hand wrapping around her throat as I fuck into her. Her back is arched, which lets me hit her at the perfect angle. Using her hair and my hold on her throat, I pound into her mercilessly. I feel my balls tightening, the pulsing warning me that I’m close. I release her throat, dropping my hand to her clit. She bucks against me when I flick over it and then alternate rubbing just how she likes it, the way that gets her off. I give it a soft slap. “You’re gonna come all over my cock, Frankie. Then I’m going to come so fucking hard, so fucking deep in this perfect,” Slam “Tight,” Slam “Wet,” Slam, slam “Pussy.” Slam “Your cunt is fucking heaven and I love it. I love that I get to make it dirty because it’s mine.” Biting down on her shoulder, I slam into her one last time, pushing down forcefully with my palm on her clit, and she shatters around me. Her orgasm so fucking intense it takes me right along with her, my vision wavering. I release her hair and she flops forward, her ass and back a vision in front of me that I can’t ignore. My hands curve over and up her rounded ass as I rock slowly, still semi-hard. Leaning forward, I place kisses across her back, over the lacy ink.
“You okay, baby? Did I hurt you? Your head?” I ask, massaging her scalp gently, still inside of her.
She shakes her head. “You didn’t hurt me. You fucked me sleepy though,” she says, laughing softly. Pulling out of the warmth of her body, I place a kiss on each of her ass cheeks before padding to the bathroom to grab a towel to clean her up. As I make my way back to the bed, I realize that she’s already asleep. Chuckling to myself, I gently wipe away my mess, tossing the towel in the hamper before I climb into bed next to her and pull the covers over us both. Frankie sighs deeply and turns toward me, nuzzling her face into my neck. I pull her tighter. The food can wait. The bullshit can wait. This right here, my girl in my arms, is all that fucking matters right now. This can’t wait.
I wake up disoriented and hungry as hell. My eyes slowly adjust to the complete darkness in the room. Careful not to wake Frankie up, I reach for my phone and see that it’s nearly midnight. Holy fuck, I can’t believe everyone left us alone for this long. There’s a quiet knock on the door—I spoke too soon. Quickly pulling the comforter up to be sure Frankie is completely covered, I slip out of bed and pull on my discarded sweatpants and pad over to the door, opening it to see who the fuck is here this late.
“Hey, brother, I just got back from dropping Pop off. Just checking to see if you need anything and to see if the Princess is doing okay.” Mav looks tired and worried. He’s been working his ass off trying to make sure this doesn’t all turn into a bigger clusterfuck than it already is.
“Why was Pop still here?” I ask as I lead him down the stairs to the kitchen.
“Everyone has been here all day. Guy and Pop got here after the meeting over at EWF. Neither one of them wants to let her, fuck, even you, out of their sight.”
“How did that go?” I ask hesitantly. He sighs loudly,
“Could’ve gone worse, little brother. Could’ve gone better too, but it is what it is. All we can do is wait and see what charges you face, if any, and what happens with Drew.” Nodding my head in understanding, I turn and start rummaging in the fridge, pulling stuff out to make omelets.
“You eating, bro?” I call from inside the freezer, taking stock.
“You got any of that jarred queso shit you love so much?”
My head pops around the open door, “Is that a trick question? Of course I do. It’s in the pantry. Grab the bread out of there too,” I call after him as he saunters to the huge butler’s pantry.
“Just let me go wake Frankie up. Start making some potatoes. Don’t forget the oil this time, dumb ass,” I yell to him from the foot of the stairs. My feet don’t even hit the third step when Frankie comes into view at the top, standing on the landing in nothing but my t-shirt. The smile that takes over my face at seeing her is easy. Those smiles have been few and far between lately.
“Hey, Princess. I was just coming to get you. You hungry?”
Her eyes dart away from me and she nods. The fuck? She better not start this shit. I’m well aware that having sex didn’t just fix all of our problems, but I thought it would at least put us in a better place. Maybe she needs fucked again to help her along to my way of thinking. At that thought, I let my gaze roam over her, sexy red painted toes, bare legs tanned and toned and slightly fucking scraped up, that dip in her waist that shows off the curve in her hips, and that damn bubble ass. I need in that ass.
My eyes make it all the way up to the words inside a bearded silhouette—“She Liked the B so She Stayed for the D”—covering her tits, and finally to her face flushed from my eye fucking. I smirk knowingly. I refuse to make this easy on her. I’ve been too easy for too long now. She’s about to get the full Deacon effect from here on out. “Can you walk?”
She looks at me confused. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be able to walk?” Her brows are drawn low in confusion.
I let the smirk through again and shrug. “We fucked like beasts just a little bit ago, baby. You fell asleep about fifteen seconds later, so I’m pretty sure I wore your ass out,” I say smugly. Frankie blinks slowly. Ignoring me, she starts down the stairs—on shaky legs. When she reaches the bottom, I offer her my hand, which she takes, much to my surprise. I can’t resist and pull her into my chest, placing a kiss to my spot before dropping her hand and wrapping my arms around her. All the playfulness leaves my body when I hear her sniff back tears, tears that are making a track down my chest.
“Ahhhh, baby. You know I can’t handle you crying. What’s wrong?” I ask, placing a kiss to the top of her head, swaying back and forth, hoping to soothe her. Frankie pushes away from me and wipes the tears left on her face.
“Nothing, I just—it was nice to forget everything while we were up there.” She points behind her to the staircase and my room. “I didn’t have to think about anything but the way you make me feel, and it’s been so long since that’s all I had to do that I just feel a little overwhelmed right now.” Shrugging, she puffs out a little laugh, “Then you go ahead and hit me with all of that ‘Deacon’ and it’s like a fucking tsunami.” As she says that, her stomach lets out a loud growl.
“When’s the last time you ate, Princess?”
“What day is it?” she asks me. I’m pretty sure she’s serious.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Let’s feed you. We have a shit ton to talk about.”
“Can we talk now, about last night?” Frankie asks quietly, tugging on my hand. “They wouldn’t tell me anything at the hospital and Detective Adams just said that you were fine, just answering some questions. I don’t even know where the hell they took Andrew.” She says, hiccupping back tears.
“Hey, shhhh. Look at me.” I murmur, pulling her back into my arms. When her eyes are focused on me I do my best to ease her worries, “I’m here right? They didn’t throw me in jail. And most importantly you’re fine.” Smiling reassuringly, “The rest can wait, yeah?” When she nods I take her hand, pulling her behind me, “Come on, we’ll eat and talk.”
We walk to the kitchen, and she stops on the way to put the sound system on. I’m surprised she hadn’t done it sooner; it’s usually the first thing she does the minute she walks in the house. Maverick smiles at her as she strolls in, tugging the shirt down her legs. I forgot he was even here.
“Hey, Princess. You feeling better? You look better,” he says, glaring at me. She looks like she’s been fucked. Her hair is all sexed up and she has beard burn on her neck. I just grin and help her onto the stool at the island.
I place a kiss on her wrist, then lean in and whisper against her ear, “As soon as my brother leaves, we’ll talk about us. And how as soon as I get you back upstairs, I’m going to take you again so all you have room for in that beautiful head of yours is me. Same as your pretty, little pussy.” She gasps and I laugh. It thrills the fuck out of me that I can still shock her. My hand brushes lightly over her head and her soft hair. I freeze when I feel a large bump and she winces away from my touch. “Shit, I’m sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?” I lift my chin toward the ceiling indicating that I mean when I had fistfuls of her hair in bed.
“I didn’t notice at the time,” Frankie says softly.
I search her face, looking for signs that she’s lying to me. Satisfied that she’s not, I ask, “Do you have any pain pills or anything from the hospital?”
“No, I didn’t want them. I’ll take some Tylenol. I need to eat something first though.”
Mav walks over to where she sits, sliding onto the stool next to her with the bottle of medicine and a glass of orange juice, “Cook for us, chef Deacon, we’re hungry.” Lazy ass, he knows how to make a damn omelet.
“Garbage omelet, okay, Princess? Or do you want something else?” I ask, pulling pans and turning to the stove to fire up the bacon. Glancing over my shoulder for her answer, she nods and goes back to Mav, the two of them playing with the iPad that controls my whole damn house now. TVs, stereo system, alarm, thermostat, everything. I love it . . . when I can find the fucking thing. One of them raises the volume on the song being played, Alabama Shakes, that’s gotta be my girl, she loves them. The muscle in my jaw starts ticking as I think about her being hurt by that fucker. “What did they say at the hospital, Frankie?”
“A mild concussion. They just did some tests, told me what to watch out for and sent me home. They wanted me to stay for observation, but I needed to be out of there. I needed to be here.” She says it so softly that I almost don’t hear her over the popping bacon in the pan, but I hear her.
“You’re okay though, right? Should you have stayed?” I ask sternly.
“No, I’m fine. Tired and a little sore, but other than that, I’ll be okay,” Frankie assures us. Flipping the omelets, I set each of the burners to low as I grab plates and silverware and pop bread in the toaster. I take a minute to gather my thoughts. I have a million fucking questions for her, but I have no clue where to start and I need to be easy with her and not get all worked up. Easier said than done.
Bringing everything over to where they sit, heads bent together over the tablet, I take it from them and replace it with their plates when they look up at me all indignant. “You two wanna eat or what?” I ask, my brow raised.
“Thank you, Deac.”
“Yeah, thanks, fucker face.”
The Princess snorts out a laugh, “Good one, Mav!” and high fives him.
“If you two are finished being cute . . .” I say, trying to hide my amusement. I miss this. The Princess and her Loves just hanging out, busting each other’s balls.
They both grin and dig into their food. I eat standing across from them so that I can actually see her face while we talk about everything that’s been going on.
“How long have you been getting shit from him, Frankie?” I’m careful to not use his name.
I watch as she stiffens, her fork frozen in front of her open mouth.
“Since right after that night. That’s when the phone calls started, then the letters and pictures,” she says in a resigned voice before taking her bite, eyes cast down.
Every cell in my body, every muscle, every bit of every-fucking-thing inside me goes molten with anger, rage, an unnamable feeling that takes over and makes me see red. The air around us crackles with my fury.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mav staring at her, mouth agape before saying, “Oh shit,” as he soundlessly slips off of his stool and takes his plate with him into the other room. Frankie sits, squirming on her seat, still avoiding eye contact.
My hands tremble with the need to crush her to me. I’m not sure whether I want to shake the shit out of her or bend her over my knee and spank her. I have to have misheard her. As calmly as I possibly can, I push my plate aside. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. For a minute there I thought you said that you’ve been harassed with letters, pictures, and phone calls for months. Months where you were in my bed, in my arms. Months where you kept your fears from me while we told each other that we loved one another. Months where I could’ve made sure you were safe, where you didn’t have to be afraid. Fucking months where you were my girl and you denied me the chance to take care of you.” My voice is raised louder than I intend, my fists clenched so tight they’re starting to cramp in protest. The simple task of breathing a huge fucking chore right now as I struggle to regulate it and my out of control heart rate. “Now, please. Please, tell me that I misunderstood what you said because I know in my fucking heart yo
u wouldn’t keep something that fucking big from me. Not my girl, not my best friend, the woman I love, would die for, kill for.” Looking at her imploringly, I see the truth. The tears in her eyes, running down her face, all the answer I need. Before I have a chance to rein it in, my arm sweeps everything off the island in a deafening crash of broken glass and clattering cutlery. The Princess jumps, stunned, and sits back in her seat, eyes screwed tightly shut. Head hanging down, I grip the edge of the granite countertop and concentrate on breathing in and out.