Chapter 24 – Keyshawn
Chapter Twenty-Four
Keyshawn
D eacon convinces me to go to the doctor, but he hasn’t fully convinced me that having a baby is a good idea for us. Sexual compatibility isn’t the same thing as working as a team together. Our child — boy or girl — will grow up in this world as a black child. How are we going to tell our children how we met? This crazy idea is one of those ideas that seems fun in the bedroom, but the moment you have to sit there with your thoughts and that warm squishy feeling of a man’s cum between your legs… the idea seems too crazy.
The doctor’s visit isn’t traumatic, because at least there’s a black nurse there. I don’t know where the fuck Deacon found a black nurse to assist the doctor, but Anna is gentle, and she seems very normal and calm. Great bedside manner compared to the other people I’ve had to deal with in the healthcare industry. Deacon spoiled me afterwards with dessert at Dairy Queen and the frozen pizza I’ve been craving for weeks. It makes me want another doctor’s visit soon…
But I still disagree with Deacon. About this being a good idea. It’s not that I don’t enjoy being with him, it’s just… I’m the one experiencing all the crazy hormonal changes, the visible, ph ysical changes and everything else associated with pregnancy. This stopped being a game when he chose to bring life into this world.
Weeks pass, and as the circumference of my abdomen grows, Deacon just lavishes un-fucking-real amounts of affection on me. When we have sex, he doesn’t spank or hit me. He doesn’t even pin my hands over my head. It’s nice for him to treat me like I’m precious in bed but…
I still hate him. I break every rule I can think of, and at the official medically estimated 16 week mark of my pregnancy, I have broken all of Deacon’s rules right underneath his nose. He hasn’t taken me to the playroom once. He just keeps trying to get me to talk about my past. Or engage in these crazy delusions about how great our life will be once we have a baby.
He’s the one who will get to run away on his motorcycle all the time while I’m stuck here…
My frustration burns through me, and I ran out of Real Housewives of Salt Lake City episodes. There are only so many times I can listen to Heather complain before I get tired of watching reruns. I need a fresh distraction and breaking rules doesn’t do a damn thing to spice things up around here.
Crazy thoughts enter my head. Because I guess there’s technically one rule I haven’t tried to break again. My ass never wants to experience that riding crop again. Ever.
But Deacon absolutely would have to act if he caught me running away.
And let’s be honest. I should be running away. This man kidnapped me and knocked me up because he got carried away after our transactional interaction. Then he brings me here, treats me like a princess when I’m good, a brat when I’m bad, and confuses the hell out of all my senses.
He’s making it worse with his “good guy” act right now. He won’t even touch me. Spank me. He won’t get rough at all.
And Deacon has me so mentally fucked up that I want him to get rough. That’s the part of him I miss the most and now that he has his baby… that special fucked up relationship we shared has basically died.
What’s the point of staying here? I don’t need him to raise a kid. Plus, I can take his ass to court. I feel a guilty tug in my chest. It’s a heartless thought that I don’t even mean. See? Deacon fucked me up. I can’t even treat him like the monster that I know he is, because he makes me feel… everything.
It’s too much feeling and when you have that much feeling for a man, it can screw your life up. My mother followed a gambler to the ends of the earth and watched him drink away both their paychecks for the grand prize of his relentless cheating. And an STD once. I’m sure they wanted to keep that to themselves, but sound and distrust travel easily in small houses.
The rare times we had a house instead of an apartment.
When you give yourself to a dangerous man, you can’t get mad when you have to face the consequences. Deacon makes me feel alive, and it’s so damned exciting. But I don’t know if he can keep me and the baby completely safe. I keep wanting to test him .
An escape attempt would definitely test him. But I need more time to plan…
“What’s going on, baby?”
I try to hide the fact that I jumped out of my skin. I didn’t hear that large man’s footsteps at all. Escaping him won’t be easy. I don’t love that he calls me baby, either.
“Staring into space, doing nothing.”
“Want me to hit the gym with you?”
This asshole. He noticed that I didn’t go to the gym yesterday, but he still isn’t punishing me… He’s trying this tactic instead.
“I already worked out today.”
“You did? Because I didn’t notice you in the home gym today and I have cameras everywhere.”
Rightfully, he should be getting pissed off. But he barely responds. Which pisses me off. Why is he acting like our contract doesn’t matter? The contract he printed out. And made me sign.
“I went.”
How much more brazen lying can Deacon really take before he snaps? I know this man and his desire to spank me, bruise my ass and more. How can he expect his total indifference to my misbehavior not to send some kind of panic straight through me. I still have no idea what he does for work, or what the hell he does all day, or on the days when he stays late.
“You did not go to the gym. ”
“Are you accusing me of lying to you?”
“Yes.”
He’s still calm. Heat prickles underneath my skin. It would be one thing if I still had bruises on my ass, if I still had any marks to prove Deacon’s continued devotion to me. I have to deal with all these hormones, the changes to my body from the baby, and constant weird ass cravings.
“I’m also planning my escape.”
Deacon chuckles. He doesn’t even sound mad. What the fuck?
“Yeah, right.”
“I am planning my escape. I’ve been slowly pushing your boundaries for months and you don’t give a shit. Maybe you’ll care if you find me… actually, you won’t find me.”
My voice sounds steady enough, but my body trembles with rage as I lose control over my thoughts and emotions. I can’t blame the hormones for this. The strange tension built up between me and Deacon has a direct connection to this dynamic he imposed over both of us. Without his discipline, I am fucking lost, and without his discipline, I have no sense of how much he cares for me. We haven’t had a slow, gentle aftercare bath in ages.
His dark urges haven’t vanished. And if he doesn’t have that bond with me, I have nothing short of outright panic that he wants to share that bond with someone else. I know he has a large sexual appetite, and a taste for variety.
This baby could just be a way for him to express that boredom, to trap me to his side while denying me the rush that I can barely admit brings me more pleasure than any other relationship I’ve had.
“You aren’t going to run away.”
Again, nothing from him. No threats. No commands. I slam the remote down and stare straight at Deacon’s upsettingly handsome face.
“I will run away,” I snap at him. “I should have never signed that contract with you, or let you knock me up. This baby was a mistake and staying here with you will be an even bigger one. I’m leaving the second I get a chance.”
I storm past Deacon, shoulder checking him as I stomp off to our bedroom. My heart pounds like there’s a beast in my chest rattling my ribcage to make its way out. I shut the bedroom door behind me. It doesn’t really shut properly anymore and there isn’t a handle – just splinters that Deacon smoothed out.
I hear his footsteps coming down the hallway. He opens the door to the bedroom and smiles at me. What the fuck?
“Want to take a shower, baby?” he asks with the gentlest tone in his voice. I’m going to kill him. I swear. I open the drawer on Deacon’s side table and pull out the small pistol he keeps there. The bigger one is back in the kitchen since our last fight. Deacon watches me hold the gun and when I point it at him, he sighs.
“Seriously, Keyshawn?”
“Yes. I’m going to shoot you.”
“No. You’re not,” he growls. Anger. Yes. I have to suppress my immediate glee at finally getting some type of emotion out of Deacon. Even anger is better than his complete neutrality towards my defiance. He grabs the gun out of my hand and slams it back into the drawer. “Guns are not toys, Keyshawn.”
I glare at him. “I’ll do what I want.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you today?”
More anger. And scarier than Deacon’s anger – a real conversation.
“I’m waking up.”
“To what, exactly?” Deacon’s voice remains cool and collected. I resent his ability to have his emotions under control so easily – and all the time. I’m a mess, and even more of a mess now that my pregnancy sends me on a constant roller coaster of emotion.
“I’m pregnant with your child and I hate you.”
Deacon smirks, but his eyes betray more than a flicker of anger.
“I see.”
“I hate you from the bottom of my heart.”
Deacon runs his tongue over his lip. He does this to slow himself down and keep control over every muscle in his body. I hate that I learned all these little things about him. Completely useless, because everything he started between us was nothing more than a game for him.
“I have gone out of my way to be goddamn perfect since we got the news and after weeks of kissing your ass and treating you like a fucking princess, all you can say is that you hate me.”