by Mandi Beck
Smiling he pulls me into his side. “I already have two babies on the way, don’t need any more,” he calls out to her cheekily. “Only one baby mama for this guy. I’ll be lucky to survive this one.” Deacon grins wickedly at me and ushers us through the doors.
Once inside, he has to go and meet backstage with the rest of the guys on the fight card. He grabs up my hand and kisses my wrist. I hope he never stops. The butterflies that fill my belly every damn time rival these two future MMA fighters taking up residence in there. “Reggie, take my girl to the front row; they have seats waiting for you all.” Reg nods and steps aside, holding out his arm for me to go ahead of him. Before I leave, I feel the need to reassure my Fighter. I’m more nervous about this than I am the fight itself. There’s a lot of shit talking that goes on at these things, which is usually right up Deac’s alley. Talking about Sonny is going to be difficult though, as well as everything that went on over the last year with the trial and me. Derek will be up there to field questions, and he said he’d keep them as professional as possible and redirect all of the personal shit. He agrees with the Love team that it’s nobody’s business.
I reach up and brush my fingers over his half of the Mizpah charm dangling from the chain on his neck, smiling softly at him. “I love you, Deac. This part will be over soon.” On tiptoes, I place a kiss to his jaw then allow Reggie to lead me away.
We get settled in our seats and wait in anxious anticipation for the fighters to come out and the questions to start. I like how they’ve started doing these, allowing fans to come in and ask questions as well as the press, and hopefully it means the questions will stay neutral, more about the fight, rather than devolve into ugly dirt-digging.
The room explodes into applause as the fighters and Derek come from behind the black curtain. I can’t take my eyes off of Deac as he stalks confidently across the stage to his seat on the far side of the podium, directly in front of where we’re all sitting. His hair is completely unmanageable in this desert heat. I just want to bury my fingers in it. It’s wavier than usual, escaping the messy bun he has it all pulled into at the base of his skull. All the men on the panel are required to wear suits, but Deac being Deac had to be a rebel and instead is wearing a black dress shirt, black pants and black suspenders. He looks dapper as hell all blacked out. I don’t get to see him in anything other than sweatpants and workout clothes very often, and although I love seeing him in those, it’s nice to see him dressed up every once and a while too. Deacon catches me admiring him and throws me the “I love you” sign as he takes his seat. Once all of the men are seated, the fun will begin.
After two hours of trash talking from both sides and some of the most ridiculous questions—“Will you make Saul shine the belt in front of you before handing it over when you win?”—the press starts to get more comfortable and more personal. Asking questions about me, the babies, all of the broken hearts he’s leaving along the circuit. Deacon answers each with a smile and his “no fucks given” attitude that I love so much. Until a guy from one of the sports networks stands up and asks about the Brazilian models who tweeted about sleeping with him. Deac picks the microphone up from the table and points over at me, “Have some fucking respect for my girl, bro. Those chicks and that question hold absolutely no importance in my life. One woman. That’s all I need and she knows where she ranks with me.” Deac tosses the mic down, the muscle in his jaw ticking. I can see that this is all about to go south, so I pull my phone out and shoot him a text.
Me: Who loves me more than you do?
I hit send and watch as he glances down at his phone and then up at me, a smirk on that gorgeous mouth of his.
Deacon: Nobody.
Me: I know that. No one else matters
Tucking my phone back into my purse, I blow him a kiss and settle in for the rest of the questioning. Does it hurt my heart? Hell yes. But, that’s all behind us now. I only want for us to move and grow. No going backwards anymore.
Just as they’re wrapping everything up, they allow one more question.
“This one is for Deacon. Mr. Love you didn’t waste any time replacing your brother, your trainer from the beginning of your career. How are you and the new trainer working out? Is having a new trainer a weakness that you think Mr. Ares can benefit from?”
My breath held, I look at Deacon and watch as that one question takes its toll. It’s as if he’s been punched, the pain evident on his face. Derek leans into the microphone to thwart the question when Deacon puts a hand on his arm stopping him.
“First of all, my brother is and always will be irreplaceable. He didn’t quit, or get fired, he was killed. Something that I’m struggling with as a fighter and as a man who just lost his brother. Is it a weakness? I’m sure it can be viewed that way. Will I give Rude Awakening a chance to use it to his advantage? Absolutely fucking not. That fight is with me. No one else,” he states firmly. “Secondly, Leo isn’t just some random guy that I found to join my team. He trained me while we served together. He’s the only other person I trust to have in my corner. My team is my family, my core. We’re missing a big piece of our unit, but we’re rallying together and that’s how you win shit.” I see how much that took out of him, but he sits tall in his chair, proud. And I know that no one else can see the anguish just under the surface. His eyes are full of sorrow and a weakness he’s not accustomed to even as his body is pure strength. But he’s right—he won’t allow anyone to use that against him.
The room is quiet, nobody sure how to respond at first, and then hands shoot up all over, people yelling questions, one more personal than the next. It’s like this guy opened a floodgate. And that’s when Derek puts an end to it, turning the mics off and bringing the guys to the center of the stage to face off for the cameras.
After the conference, we go right back to the hotel, each going our own way, agreeing to meet in the morning for the pre-weigh-in. With one hand on the small of Frankie’s back, I raise my other in farewell, following her into our suite.
“I’m so fucking glad that’s over,” I mutter, tossing my coat over the chair and going over to the bar in the corner.
“You did good, Deac. You didn’t let them beat you. I’m proud of you. I can see that fire again, and it makes me happy. You’re light’s not made to be snuffed out, baby.” Her voice is like a balm to my soul. Just hearing her say the words makes me feel it. Believe it.
“If it’s back, it’s because of you. I get through it all because of you, Princess. I’m sorry I pushed you away. Never should have; I know better. I’m through with that. I’ve got my head in the game and I’m ready to fight. Inside and outside of the Cage. I’m ready . . . because of you.”
“No, because of you. I’m just here to love you. The rest is all your doing. My Fighter. Always fighting, even if it’s himself,” Frankie says to me as she toes out of her heels, an affectionate smile touching her lips.
Just that simple move has my focus shifted. “How in the fuck do you wear those? You’re about to pop and yet here you are walking around in six-inch stilettos. Not that I’m complaining; you know how much I love your shoes.” I wink, smirking at her around the rim of the water bottle pressed to my lips.
“That’s why I wear them, and they’re only three inches. Plus, I’m so used to being in heels all the time that I don’t even notice. Since you did though, I’m rocking my Chucks tomorrow,” she teases. As she climbs onto the bed, she pats the mattress. “Now come here. I’ve wanted to get my hands on you ever since I watched you get dressed to leave,” Frankie orders in her sexy rasp.
“Is that right?” A wicked grin splits my face. I bury my hands in my pockets and lean back against the bar. “Well, what’re you gonna do about it, Miss De Rosa?” Eyes dancing over her, I can feel my pants getting tighter. She has her hair up and off her neck in some messy bun thing that makes her look like she’s got “just fucked” hair, the diamonds on her necklace catching the light every time she moves.
I amble over to
the bed and sit next to her. “I really am proud of you. This is all a lot to take in right now and you’re handling it like a champ,” Frankie says as she maneuvers so that she’s kneeling behind me. With her belly pressed into my back, she begins kneading my shoulders, breaking up the tension that’s been resting there for weeks.
“I’m sorry that they got so personal. I don’t ever want that shit to be brought up again. It was inevitable though.” My head falls forward to give her better access. “Princess?”
“Hmmm?”
“I promise to never put you in that position again. You’re all I want. I’m done with the rest of them. You understand that, right?” Almost afraid of her answer, I glance over my shoulder at her when her hands stop their soothing motion. “Frankie?”
“I believe you,” she says softly. “Let’s not talk about it anymore though, okay? I’m over it, forgiven you, but I won’t ever forget. So for now, I just want to focus on us. Only ever us here.” Her hand makes a sweep of the bed.
“Okay.” I nod, standing at the foot of the bed, looming over her.
My finger traces her pouty bottom lip, smiling when she nips the pad and then soothes it with a swipe of her tongue. Gaze traveling over her face, across her bare shoulders, I land on her superb fuckin’ rack. “Whatcha got on under that little dress, Princess?” Need making my words sound rough. It’s been too long. How did I stay away from her for so damn long?
“In this heat? Nothing.” It comes out like a purr, a promise. My girl is a seductress; she knows how to work me over. Up on her knees, she slips her fingers underneath my suspenders, yanking me as close as her belly will allow.
With hooded eyes, I watch her, waiting to see what she’ll do next. I’m the dominant one in our bedroom. All she has to do is look at me and I’ve been properly seduced. Open that pretty mouth of hers, drop a few dirty words, and I’m fucking done. This right here is more than I usually allow, because I’m incapable of waiting when I want her. And I always want her. So I take charge, take her. And she lets me. This time though . . . this time is her show.
Hands flat against my chest, she runs her hands over my pecs, trails them over my shoulders to lock behind my neck. Head cocked to the side, she tangles her fingers into the hair at my nape. My heart is stuttering in anticipation, yearning as I fight the urge to take over. Frankie pulls my head down to meet her mouth, taking my bottom lip in between her teeth and tugging. I growl low in my throat. Fighting the urge to flip her over and bury myself in her right now. “You want me, Deac? Will you let me love you? I want you to let me fuck you.” The words are no more than a breath against my mouth, but their impact is what has me tightening my hands on her back.
“Is it—” My voice is like gravel. I clear my throat and try again, “Is it okay? Did you ask the doctor?” Concern for the babies gives me pause.
“All cleared with Dr. Dean. Apparently dancing keeps me in great shape. He said no restrictions other than no sparring with you. I’m sure this wasn’t what he meant though,” Frankie says with a cheeky grin. A wicked glint in her eyes.
“Fuck me, Princess.” It’s an order. A plea.
Silently she pushes the suspenders off my shoulders, and once they’re hanging at my side, she begins slipping buttons through my black shirt one by one. With every disc she slides through, she places an open-mouthed kiss to my skin leaving a path of fire behind. Tugging the tails of my shirt out of my waistband, Frankie pushes the tailor-made shirt down my arms, letting her fingers caress every bit of exposed skin before dropping it to the floor. I grab her wrist when she reaches for my pants. “No fucking around, I want inside you, you feel me?” I demand.
Frankie just shakes my hand off. “Not yet I don’t, but I will.” Her voice affects me as much as her touch. As my pants hit the ground, I fist my hands into the gauzy material of her dress ready to rip it from her body. Literally. I draw in a breath when she reaches into my boxer briefs, cupping my sac with one hand as she strokes over my cock with the other. She releases me and pushes the briefs down over my hips. Helping her get them past my thighs, I kick them away the moment I’m free. The Princess lets an appreciative sound slip past her lips, making me smile. “Have I ever told you how perfect you are? How magnificent every inch of you is?” she asks, dragging a pink-tipped fingernail from the base of my cock to the crown, causing it to jump.
“I don’t think you have. Right now I would rather you show me.”
Without hesitation, she reaches for the hem of her dress and pulls it over her head, flinging it to the side. Not one to lie, she’s completely bared to me, nothing on underneath, just like she said. I love how she isn’t self conscious about her body. On her knees in front of me, her tits full, rose-colored nipples tight, begging for my attention. I crack a smile at the size of her belly. She’s so petite everywhere else, except for this perfectly round and wicked distended Buddha belly. It’s fucking beautiful. She’s beautiful. Stunning. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Inside and out. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.” My words light her up, just like the vision of her, naked and pregnant with my children, does to me.
“Only you could love me like this,” Frankie says slightly amused. “But only you matter.” Placing a kiss to first her name and then the charm dangling against my neck, she sits back, her knees spread. “This is going to be soft and slow. I promise I’ll make you feel good, Deacon. But I’m the one fucking you tonight, and I say soft and slow.
I can’t see her pussy, but I don’t have to. I can smell the sweet scent of her arousal, see it on her flushed skin as she pulls me onto the bed, guiding me to my back. With my hands gripping the headboard, I let out a groan when she slides my cock into her mouth. In and out, working me farther down her throat. My head thrown back, neck exposed, I hiss out a breath through my teeth when Frankie swallows my entire length. Immediately, my instincts kick in and I jerk my hips forward, hitting the back of her throat. She pulls back and lets me fall from her mouth with a pop, laughing softly, “Greedy.”
“Can’t help it, baby,” I grit out.
“Help me?” She holds out her hand for me to take. I steady her as she carefully straddles me. Her pussy glides over my cock as she teases us both by rocking back and forth, over and over, until the friction sets off a trembling in her legs. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip, I grab her thighs and help her torture me until she comes all over my cock before I can even get inside her. “You’re fucking killing me, Princess.”
With a look of pure sin, she lifts up. Meeting my eyes, she gives me the go ahead with a smile. Sliding a hand in between us, I guide my cock into her, moaning as she stops midway down my shaft only to lift back up to the tip and back down again. Finally, her ass is resting against my thighs, her hands planted on the headboard for balance, giving me access to more of her. I lift my head and take a puckered nipple into my mouth, scraping my teeth against it, then blowing as I abandon it to drag my mouth down one, then the other tit, nipping the sensitive flesh as I go. She has us both panting now as she rolls her hips in a sensual figure eight, over and over. I run my hands over her stomach in wonderment, with love and a desire that burns through me like nothing ever has. Not even fighting. I might keep her pregnant forever.
A trail of goose bumps is left in my wake as I fist her hair and snake an arm around her to palm her ass, spurring her on, but still not taking control no matter how bad I want to. I growl into her ear, “Whose cock is this, Princess? Who owns me, huh? Tell me.” I flex my hips, holding myself rigid to apply more pressure to her clit with every rotation of her hips. “Tell me,” I demand, tightening my grip in her hair.
“Mine. Mine. Mine. All fucking mine,” Frankie moans out. Her movements become a little less coordinated and she slaps an open palm against the headboard. That’s my breaking point.
“That’s right, baby. This cock is yours. Can I give it to you now? Please, let me give it to you? I’ve reached my limit. Don’t even care that I’m begging.” The nod she gives me is all the encour
agement I need. Remembering that I have to treat her more delicately than I normally would, I sit up with Frankie still straddling me. Nearly chest to chest, I run my hands down her thighs to delicate ankles and pull her legs to wrap around my back one after the other, locking them at the base of my spine. “Okay?” I question as I settle her further onto my lap, putting me even deeper. Her belly resting against me as I rock gently and deeply.
“Mmmm, yes. Perfe—” her words are cut off by her gasp, her nails digging into my shoulders where she hangs onto me. “Again,” she cries out in pleasure.
“Greedy.” I throw her words back at her, even while I thrust my hips forward at the same time as I pull down on her shoulders, pressing her tighter still. “Your pussy is fucking perfection, Princess. Tight, wet, fucking perfection.” The words tumble from my lips. I feel almost delirious with the need I feel for her. My heart is racing, pulsating, electric. Like it’s own living entity everywhere we touch. My fingers spearing through her hair, my arm anchoring her to me, the silky smoothness of her thighs rubbing against mine, my cock buried in her sweet, flawless, fucking cunt. My whole damn body in flames from the heat being with her like this creates. I rest my palm against her chest and apply pressure, tugging her hair so that she’s leaning back, her hands planted on the bed for support. “Ahhh, there’s that pretty pussy,” I murmur, bringing my thumb to her clit, strumming over it. I’m so close. I need her closer. Want her coming with me, all over me. Frankie throws her head back, exposing the long column of her throat, her tits moving in time with my thrusts. I know she’s close when she begins working against me as much as her position and belly will allow. “You ready, baby? Take me with you, let me feel it.” Without breaking our rhythm, I grasp her hips, taking control again and thrust, soft but sure, flicking my hips with every thrust, making sure I hit her spot with every stroke. Her eyes squeezed shut, Frankie’s breaths come out in gasps, my name mingled in between. Her muscles contracting around my cock in waves, each one tighter than the last. “That’s it, Princess. You know what I want. Give me what I want—come all over my cock. Then I’ll dirty this pretty little pussy up,” I grit out through clenched teeth. There’s no room for finesse now, I’m too close. When she goes rigid in my hands, her thighs falling wider apart, I grunt out in relief as my control snaps and I’m coming. Long and hard. Shudders racking my body every couple seconds from the intensity.