Chapter 25 – Deacon
Chapter Twenty-Five
Deacon
K eyshawn will break me. I push my tongue into the corner of my cheek and stare her down. I can feel forbidden words pressing around my mouth. Pushing against my lips. I want to tell her how I feel, but her words cut deeper than my riding crop ever could.
I hate you…
“I do hate you,” Keyshawn repeats, glaring at me with that fierce expression. Is this why she’s been so fucking disobedient lately? I don’t fucking get it. I really don’t.
“Is that it, then? You were having such a great life out there with country boys who took such good care of you that you ended up on your knees for a stranger.”
“I. Hate. You.”
I lose my shit. I close the distance between us and grab Keyshawn by the cheeks. I don’t even give a fuck about hurting or scaring her. I yank her pregnant ass to her feet and force her to stare at me face to face. I force her to stand, but when I look into this woman’s crazy dark brown eyes, all she does is smile.
What the fuck ?
A mysterious smile creeps slowly across Keyshawn’s face. My dick stands straight at attention despite her disobedience. No. Because of it. I promised that I wouldn’t do anything close to hurting her while she was pregnant, and I have allowed her to see that I’m not just a complete monster.
I thought that was working at first, but my kindness has done absolutely nothing to soften Keyshawn’s heart towards me. She clearly doesn’t even care about our baby, and what this commitment could mean for both of us.
“You hate me?” I ask her.
“Yes,” Keyshawn says.
I stick my tongue out and press it to the bottom of her chin. I keep holding her face and lick her from her chin all over the side of her neck until I get to her earlobe. Before pulling away, I kiss her on the forehead. My thumb sinks into her jaw.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re mine. I can lick you. Fuck you. Do whatever I want with you. And if you think for a second running away will work, you’re wrong. I will strap you down and inject a GPS tracker under your skin myself.”
I let her cheeks go and Keyshawn falls back onto her heels. Still smiling like a fucking crazy person.
“What the fuck is making you smile so hard?”
“Nothing.”
But she can’t hide the grin on her face, even if me noticing her grin makes her try her very best to suppress her joy. Damn it.
“Tell me.”
“This is the closest you have come to a reaction in weeks. ”
What the fuck?
“I’ve spent the past few weeks doing everything you wanted and treating you like a princess.”
My princess. The mother of my child. Why can’t she see that?
“Right,” Keyshawn says, exposing some of her frustration as her brows knit together and the grin washes off her face. “Princess treatment. I guess you’re fucking some other woman’s mouth when you’re out all day.”
Is that what this is about?
It’s my turn to have a broad grin on my face. Now I understand. Women are complicated, but they’re still human, and beneath their wild and completely incomprehensible emotions, there is usually something grounded that they can’t find the words to reveal.
“You are the only woman I have any interest in fucking.”
“You expect me to believe you gave up rough sex completely and the only thing you care about is eating me out and pretending to be the perfect boyfriend.”
Our eyes meet nervously at Keyshawn’s accidental usage of one of those unspoken “forbidden words” between us. Our relationship never needed labels before, especially because we had a contract, which defined everything much more clearly than any romantic label.
“I know I’m not the perfect boyfriend.”
She bites down on her lower lip, keeping her feelings stuffed. But can either of us afford to do that right now? The baby inside Keyshawn is very fucking real. Our relationship is real. Maybe more than both of us realized.
“You’re not my boyfriend.”
Another test from my favorite brat.
“I’m more important than any boyfriend, Keyshawn. I’m the father of your child, the one man on this earth you can always count on.”
She lets me touch her lips with my thumb. Those lips started everything between us, and I should have known from how good they felt that those lips would also mean trouble. Keyshawn’s attitude both gets me hard and makes it harder for me to suppress my urges. This realization that she craves this expression of my desire for her makes this… impossible.
“Do you take her to the other playroom?” Keyshawn accuses me. My heart drops to my stomach. She continues to doubt me – and it fucking hurts.
“There is no other woman.”
“Right, you’re suddenly my boyfriend.”
I let that silly, ridiculous comment slide because she’s the one who used the word first. And even if I think of our relationship as something so much more than that, I don’t mind hearing her call me her “boyfriend”.
“I can be more than that. I’ll whip out a tattoo needle and make everything here more permanent.”
Keyshawn gives me that crazy fucking smile again.
“What? You’re going to flip me over and tattoo my ass or something?”
Her words. Not mine. I have to restrain myself. I never thought of alternative ways of causing pain that might be safe for the baby. A tattoo needle is the perfect idea.
“That wasn’t in our contract. ”
“Clearly, you don’t give a fuck about our contract.”
Heat rushes across the back of my neck. I want to punish her just for how badly she has taken advantage of my restraint. I want her to know that I care, and now she thinks that I don’t because I created the fucked up situation between us where she only knows how much I care if I treat her to the darkest side of me.
But it’s not the only side of me that exists.
“I give a fuck about the contract. But you and the baby are more important than any contract. You have a human life growing inside you, Keyshawn. Our baby.”
I kiss her to stop this shit from turning into an argument, to taste her lips, and to buy myself enough time to come up with a plan. Keyshawn’s lips – as usual – inspire me. I pull away from her mouth and run my thumb over her lips again.
“If you want punishment, you’ll have it. Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you to the playroom and give you a nice big biker tattoo right on your ass.”
“You’re going to kill me from an infection if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I gave tattoos to my dad when I was a kid. I might not have the most gentle hand but… I can ink you up, princess.”
She shivers. Just a little fear. She wanted me to take the bait, didn’t she? And I took it. I like the way she plays with me. Teases me. She has to know that.
“And if you think for one fucking second I would ever let you escape from me, I’ll make you wear a butt plug all day with my name on the end.”
“While pregnant?”
“Stop fucking around,” I whisper. “That’s all you have to do.”
She tries to hide her smirk again. Her little efforts to take control from me get under my skin, but all this talk about a tattoo needle gives me freedom to experiment different ways of keeping Keyshawn in line. Her disobedience has absolutely driven me crazy and I’m even more tense without her sweet ass to spank and whip into submission every night.
Fuck, she makes me crazy.
“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s easy to get obsessed with escape when you’re living with a man you hate.”
“You don’t hate me. You just want to piss me off. Be careful what you wish for.”
She tries to hide that smirk again. My dick wants to jump out of my goddamn pants. I can’t stand this control she has over me. I want her to stop saying that she hates me and now that she knows those words piss me off, Keyshawn wields them with the power she used to recklessly wave my gun at my head.
I run my thumb over her lips again. This woman will expect the tattoo, but her mischief has given me another idea – and one she won’t expect. Piercings. There are so many sexy parts of her body I want to pierce…
“I don’t know, Deacon,” she says, her voice lilting with excitement because she finally got her sick wish of pissing me off. “I think I hate you.”
“I think you hate how easy it is for me to make you cum. I think you hate the fact that the way I spank your ass turns you on. And I think you hate that I’m making this relationship real by giving you a baby. But you don’t hate me, princess. I don’t believe that for a second.”
I kiss her, forcing her to acknowledge on some level that my physical control over her turns her the fuck on. She knows deep inside how I make her feel. That’s why she’s been pressing me. Pushing me. She resents me for keeping my hands off her, but she definitely doesn’t hate me. When I pull away, Keyshawn’s soft brown eyes betray everything.
“Hate me all you want,” I growl at her. “Your ass is in trouble tomorrow.”