by Mandi Beck
“I want these off. Now,” she insists.
“Yes, ma’am,” I salute her and do as I’m told, making her smile. I need those lips wrapped around my cock.
Climbing onto the chair, I place my knees on either of her hips and stretch, sliding my dick in between her tits. Frankie doesn’t hesitate, pushing them together, and takes the tip of me into her mouth when I push through the tunnel she’s created for me. I do it one more time before straightening my legs, gripping the back of the chair as I thrust into Frankie’s mouth. We moan in unison, her hands clasping my ass and pulling me further in. My head falls back on my shoulders as I fuck her mouth, pushing her head farther and farther into the chair back with every thrust. “I’ve missed this mouth. God, I’ve fucking missed it. You suck me so fucking good, Princess. This mouth is mine,” I tell her as I jerk my hips forward, triggering her gag reflex a little but not pulling back. “That pussy that I’m about to tear the fuck up is mine. And that tight little ass is mine too.”
I go to pull out and Frankie pulls me back in, hollowing out her cheeks and swallowing my whole length to my balls. Jesus fuck, when did she learn to do that? Growling, I do my best not to come. I feel a trickle of sweat making its way down my spine as I fight it. Pushing me back so that she can take a breath, I hop off the chair and bring her with me, spinning us so that her back is to me and I’m now the one sitting in the chair.
My hands on her waist, I guide her backwards into my lap and onto my waiting cock. “That’s it, baby. Slow and easy. You’re so fucking tight.” Frankie whimpers as I stretch her. She lowers herself further. With my hands under her ass, I spread her wider in order to take more of me then lift her back up, groaning at the way she grips me before easing down again. The need to claim her is too much. My hand travels up her body over her tits to her throat, encircling it gently, possessively. “I’m the only one that’s allowed to hold you here,” I remind her of Roman doing the same while they were dancing. “You’re mine, and no one will ever know that kind of possession but me.” I punctuate my words by thrusting hard and deep, consumed completely by her pussy. Her breath catches as I rock into her while I pull her back to meet my demanding thrusts without actually pulling out. I’m afforded a full body view when I lean back into the chair. The flush on her skin, her perfect tits with nipples pulled tight, her ink, and that beautiful pussy swallowing my cock over and over.
She wants it dirty, but I’m so far gone I’m fighting coming with every move I make. Grabbing her hand, I bring it up and put her middle finger into my mouth, wetting it. “Help me make you come, Frankie. I want to watch you play with your pussy while I fuck you,” I command while I guide her hand to her clit. “Show me how you made yourself come when I wasn’t there to do it for you.” Frankie leans into me, turning her face into my neck, mouth open against my skin.
“It was never the same,” she pants. “I rubbed and fingered myself, always thinking about you and pretending it was you and it never felt the same.” Her words are like a fist around my balls, my orgasm hovering just at the precipice. Snarling, I roll my hips, angling hers so that I’m hitting her sweet spot and I watch her finger slide over and around her clit, wet and languid before both of our movements turn frantic.
“Jesus fuck, Princess,” I moan as I pound into her with rapid fire thrusts, our skin slapping out a tempo that fills the room, our breathing and low moans joining. “You own me, Princess. Fuck, do you own me, this pussy was made for my cock, made for me to fuck.” I feel her orgasm pulling me under, squeezing almost to the point of pain before rippling around my shaft. “That’s it, baby, come for me. Come all over me.” I let go of her hips just long enough to spread her legs wider over my thighs allowing me to get even deeper, and that pushes us both over the edge.
Frankie cries out, my name like a prayer on her lips over and over as I come so hard my vision goes hazy. My movements slow, and grunting, I thrust one final time before I still. Pulling her hand away from where we’re still joined, I bring it up to my mouth, placing a kiss to her wrist, the scent of us on her fingers is the sexiest thing I’ve ever smelled. I drop her hand and wrap my arms around her as she snuggles into me, placing small pecks on my neck and shoulder. We sit like that, quietly stroking, coming down from an incredible high, allowing our breathing and rapid heartbeats to slow to normal. After a few minutes, I gather Frankie up in my arms, tucking her under my chin as I lower the chair and stand.
“Where are we going?” she asks, her voice heavy with sleep.
“To bed, baby. You wore my ass out.” I chuckle as I make my way to our room, leaving our clothes. I’ll get them later. Once upstairs I lay her down in the bed, crawling in after her, pulling the blanket around us. This is where I’m happiest, not in the Cage, or the gym. Right here, wrapped around my girl. My arm around her waist, I tug her closer and place a kiss to her head, inhaling the smell of us in her hair, on her skin. Frankie sighs, deeply, content, and then again with a resigned air. “What are you thinking so hard about, Frankie?” Voice quiet, I run my fingers up and down her arm soothingly.
“We can’t keep doing this, Deac. We’re not resolving any of our issues. I can’t think. The minute you put your hands on me, I’m done. I can’t remember what I need to protect myself from or why I’m angry, hurt, whatever. All I can think about is your touch and what it does to me. What it means to me,” she says softly. “I love you so much it hurts. It physically hurts me because I am terrified of the power you have over me.” I do my best to not interrupt her. I feel like she needs to get this out, for her. I just continue stroking over her, letting her talk, listening. “You have the power to shatter me, Deacon. I ran to protect you from the danger following me, but also to protect me, from you.” She laces our fingers together. “I can’t be without you, I don’t want to be, but I want to go slow. I need to go slow. You’re too much . . . of everything. It’s a lot for me.” Frankie brings our joined hands up to her mouth and brushes a kiss across my knuckles. “I don’t want you to ever feel trapped or obligated to love me. I wouldn’t survive that either. It would hurt me worse than walking away.” I open my mouth to say that it’s not even a possibility when she turns in my arms so that we’re looking at each other. “Can you do that for me? I know slow isn’t your style—you’re all in, all the way—but I need this. I’m still uncertain of so much, I—I just . . . please?” she begs.
Tangling my hands in her hair, I tip her head back so that I can see her better. My lips touch first her forehead, her eyes flutter closed, and I kiss each eyelid then her nose, finally making my way to her mouth. Softly, reverently, I kiss her, swiping my tongue along her pouty lower lip before pulling away. “I’ll take this as slow as you want me to as long as I don’t have to share you, Frankie. Hell, we can even go on dates if you want, all proper and shit. I’m done sharing you with Flashdance though. That shit is done.” There’s an edge in my voice that I can’t help. That I won’t hide.
“Deacon, you have never had to share me with him. He’s a friend, nothing more. I don’t have room for anyone else in my heart,” she reassures me with her words and a soft kiss to my chin.
My hair falls in a curtain around us when I look down at her. “Whether you have room or not, I’ve had to share you with him. He’s been able to talk to you, laugh with you, put his fucking hands on you, all while I watched. Wishing things were different and that you could let go of your anger long enough to see that it was bullshit. It is bullshit, Princess. So don’t tell me that I didn’t have to share you,” I say harshly.
I don’t mean to lose my temper, but it’s like she’s blind to him and what their friendship does to me. I know she doesn’t see it and isn’t trying to hurt me but she needs to understand that she is. Frankie is the only one capable of hurting me. The only fucking one. So while I’m willing to go slow for her because I understand her fear when it comes to the power our feelings give us over one another, I won’t be going slow so that Cristiano has a chance to talk her into something saf
er. Fuck what she says, I have a dick, same as him, and I know where the fuck he wants to put it, and that shit ain’t never gonna happen again. Trying to lighten the mood—I hate bringing this shit to our bed, always have—I ask, “Does going slow mean no more fucking and separate bedrooms?” My hands full of her ass, I squeeze and give her a suggestive look.
Frankie laughs and slaps my chest. “You’re a beast. Yes, taking it slow means no sex and separate rooms. We need to be sure about what we want,” she tells me resolutely.
“Oh, I’m sure I want you to put out on the first date,” I tease, slapping her ass. I’m not sure why, but she seems to be pushing this slow thing like I’m going to change my mind about her and I don’t like it. I’ll have to do my best to prove to her that I’m in this. “Because, I’m a sure thing.” Winking I wrap her arms around me, returning mine to where they were, and pull her in tight. “No more talking, it’s making me hard. I have an early gym time, and you’re keeping me awake with your glorious pussy and awesome fucking rack. I think they got bigger,” I tease, kind of, as I rub my chest on hers, brushing against taut nipples and eliciting her gasp. Groaning, I tighten my hold on her ass. “Sleep, you fucking minx, unless you want to put it on me again.” I’m only half kidding. Maybe not even half. Or not one fucking bit.
“Goodnight, Deacon.”
“Goodnight Princess.”
Sonny and I walk onto the gym floor after being in the weight room for the last three hours. My legs feel like jelly, my arms like lead, but I love it. It feels like winning, like accomplishment. Still not sure if they’ll even let me fight, but I’ll be ready regardless. We head toward the mats for a little cool down when I see Reggie and Frankie standing with my pop and two suits. Frankie’s arms are crossed over her chest, her posture rigid. She’s pissed. I’m about to walk over when I catch a glimpse of the men they’re talking to. Fucking hell, I’m a dead man. It’s the marshals and I’d bet money that they just told Frankie that Drew wasn’t the one to attack her. Certain it’s true when I make eye contact with Pop and he shakes his head at me as if to say, “I told you this was a shit idea.” I knew it and I’d planned on telling her. I can’t even remember why I didn’t want her to know. Jesus fuck, would I ever not fuck up with her?
My dad waves me over. There are a million other places I would rather be right now. “Who are the guys with Pop?” Sonny asks as he follows me over to where they all stand waiting for me.
“That would be asshole one and asshole two, better known as the marshals I knuckled up at Indie’s place,” I admit to him flatly.
“Wait, what? I thought you just roughed Drew up. What were marshals doing there?” Hand on my arm he stops us, waiting for an answer. I just look him in the eyes and wait for it to sink in. Jameson is smart; it doesn’t take long. “Holy shit, he was in protective custody.” Eyes narrowed, “Did you know and not tell anyone?”
Dragging my hands through my loose hair, I scrape it into a bun. “I didn’t find out until after I beat the shit out of everyone.”
“And you didn’t tell us why?” he demands
“Fuck, Sonny, I don’t know. I had a lot of shit going on? I was worried she’d go back to him? Afraid I might have killed his ass? Take your pick.” His mouth is hanging open in astonishment, making me want to hit him. “Not my smartest move, but it’s done now, so you can lock your shit up, I don’t need it.”
“Oh, you’re not gonna get it from me. Did you see the Princess?” He jerks his chin in her direction. “She’s gonna hand you your fucking ass.” Shaking his head, he stalks off toward them, leaving me to follow after him.
“Mr. Love, just the man we want to see,” suit number one booms.
When I don’t answer him, my pop speaks up, “Deacon, this is Deputy Baird and his partner, Deputy Riley. They need to speak to you.” I look over at Frankie, she’s glaring daggers straight through me.
“Princess, I—”
She raises her hand to shut me up. “I don’t even want to hear it.” Turning to the deputies, “When you’re finished speaking to him, is there any way that I can see Andrew? Is it safe?”
“You’re shitting me, right? You’re gonna go and see him?” I huff, “This is the fucking reason I didn’t tell you.” Turning away from her and her anger, “Un-fucking-believable,” I mutter, disgusted with the whole situation.
“Deacon, that’s enough,” Pop warns.
“Are you guys arresting me? Because if not, I don’t have shit to say without my lawyers present.” Stubbornly I meet their gaze. They’ve fucked my day enough; I’m not going to make this easy on them.
“We just wanted to go over Mr. McAvoy’s condition and ask you a couple questions,” Deputy Riley tells me. He doesn’t like me, but he doesn’t hate me as much as his partner. That much is obvious.
“Are you charging me with something? Did Andrew decide to press charges?” His name tastes like shit leaving my mouth.
“No, he’s decided not to, as have we, considering the circumstances.”
I nod begrudgingly. They could have really screwed me. I should be grateful, but all I can think about is Frankie going to see Drew. “What do you need with me then?” If they aren’t charging me, what the hell do they want? “Any questions you have will have to go through my lawyers,” I inform them again.
“We just wanted to let you know that Mr. McAvoy wasn’t pressing charges, and we’ll get in contact with the lawyers for the rest.” He turns to Frankie, “And to offer Miss De Rosa the option of being under our protection.” He pulls a card out of his pocket and hands it to her. “You really should consider it. These men don’t want to go to prison and they don’t care what it takes to stay out. Unfortunately you know that all too well,” he says sympathetically and I snap.
“Yeah, she does know too well because your boy, Drew, is a fucking pussy and left her to fend for herself while he saved his own ass. You tell him I said he’s a coward and he’s lucky that she survived.” My chest heaves in anger. I feel my brother and Pop come up beside me.
“Deacon, he wasn’t the one who—” The fuck? Whirling around, I cut Frankie off.
“Don’t you fucking dare defend him. He left you, alone and vulnerable in a house he didn’t feel was safe for his ass to be in,” I roar. When she flinches and Sonny moves to stand between us, I realize it’s time for me to get the fuck out. I can’t do this with her right now. My brother places a hand to my chest and pushes me back a step, but I swat it away. “He may have not have been the one to put hands on you that day, Frankie, but he is the reason you were lying in that hospital bed, fighting for your life. Never forget that shit; God knows I never will. Maybe we should ask the cops for the pictures they took of you, every cut and scrape, busted up face and body. Would that convince you that all of this is his fucking fault?” Hands trembling in rage, I ignore the tears streaming down her face. “I sat there with you, wishing and praying to a God I’m not sure even fucking exists to not take you from me, so don’t you ever defend him to me again.”
Sonny blocks her from my view. “Why don’t you go hit the shower? We can deal with all of this later, all right?” He’s not really asking, but he doesn’t have to; I’m aware I need to go get my mind right. I hate myself for yelling at her like that; it wasn’t right to treat her that way, but fuck me, was she serious?
In the locker room, my hair damp and loose, towel slung low on my hips, I stand in front of the vending machine staring vacantly when I hear the door creak open. “Deacon, are you alone?’ Frankie calls out, her voice extra raspy, extra fucking sexy. I’m pissed at her and still she affects me.
“I’m alone. I don’t want to do this right now though, Frankie. Have one of the guys take you home,” I bite out, never turning to look at her.
“I’m not here to fight. I just wanted to come in here and apologize to you.” That catches my attention. Slowly I face her, eyebrows raised.
“You were right—I should never have defended him. He doesn’t deserve it, not for
a second. Andrew left me there to my own devices, just like you said. I still want to go and talk to him though. Ask him why, get some closure.” Hands tucked into the pocket of her ‘Frankie’s Place’ hoodie, she shrugs. “I’m confused, and pissed that you didn’t tell me. I didn’t even know that you were possibly facing charges still.” The confusion in her voice is evident. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of it, Deacon? Honestly, I’m trying to not be angry, but you make it so hard sometimes.”
Can’t deny that. Right now though, the only thing that I can focus on is the fact that she said she’s still going to see him.
“Princess,” I start as I walk over to the bench that runs down the center of the room, straddling it, the anger I feel being replaced by exasperation, a little bit of desperation even. “I was afraid,” I admit quietly. I feel like a pussy even acknowledging it, but it’s the truth.
Eyebrows creased in confusion, “Afraid of what, Deac?”
“Of you going back to him mostly.” Meeting her gaze, I shrug.
“You didn’t tell me that he wasn’t the one that attacked me, you let me think these last few days that I was finally safe, because you were scared I’d take him back?” When she says it like that, it sounds like a dick move on my part. I don’t bother answering. “I was leaving him that night, for you. Why would I take him back?” That’s the first time she’s said that to me and I’d never been sure.