63. Henri
Chapter 63
Henri
‘I would never’ is a phrase I haven’t said a lot in my life, but I’m sure in college I said, ‘I would never have car sex, especially not while it’s moving.’
Well, I’m going to have to eat those words... Or rather, lick them off the side of Deacon’s cock.
Unbuckling my seat belt, I try to figure out how to maneuver with the center console between us.
I pause, freezing when I get nearer.
“This isn’t something you have to do.” Deacon keeps his hands on the wheel.
The cruise control is set, so his legs are relaxed, but his cock is straining against his boxers and the fabric of his shirt.
“I want to. But you have to promise me something.” I watch his face, looking for... deception? But I don’t think Deacon would try to trick me.
“Anything.” Deacon nods.
“Hands on the steering wheel at all times. Both hands,” I reiterate.
The knife at the Wisconsin house was one thing, but the last thing we need is for me to freak out... I push the idea of a car crash out of my head .
He doesn’t balk at the notion but gives a firm nod, looking over at me before returning his eyes to the road ahead, keeping us safe. “Understood.”
“Can you, uh.” Get it together, Henri. I draw a deep breath. “Get me better access?”
With a small shuffle, he slides his pants and boxers down and out of the way. He pulls his shirt up, and I get the first close-up look at his cock. It’s... stunning. Hard, pink, and not super veiny, it’s... pretty? It’s not that I haven’t seen it before, but not like this.
Deacon says nothing. He doesn’t encourage me or dissuade me. His hands stay on the steering wheel, and everything stays constant.
It all waits for me.
I find the best way over the center console and lick the head of his cock. His stomach muscles clench, and it seems like a response to enjoying it.
When I lick him again, Deacon curses under his breath but, again, doesn’t move. The respect he’s giving me bolsters my confidence to take him into my mouth.
His breathing is ragged. But Deacon stays true to his word.
I explore his cock, sliding him into my mouth and swirling my tongue around the head as I pull back.
I wrap my hand around the base and stroke his shaft with the rise and fall of my head. Taking him deeper, I gag a little bit, and Deacon mutters. Over the sound of the car on the road, I can’t make out what it was, but I know, from the throb of his cock, it’s a good thing.
I press down again, thrusting deeper and gagging a little each time .
Deacon tenses under my touch. He pants, his core muscles clenching and spasming.
“Fuck.”
This time when he curses, I hear him.
I’m in control, working his shaft, sucking him into my mouth, and hollowing my cheeks around him.
I move faster, encouraging Deacon to climax. He groans and his leg shakes.
I force him even deeper into my throat, ignoring my gag reflex, and Deacon curses again.
I love hearing those words come off his lips in that husky tone. Again and again, I repeat the movements that make him cuss.
“Henri,” Deacon gasps. “Fuck, Henri, if you don’t...”
I hum with approval, not needing him to spell out the end of that threat.
He lets out a guttural groan.
Body tense and on edge, Deacon comes.
I swallow it down the best I can, keeping my mouth wrapped around him until the throbbing stops.
When I run my tongue up his cock for the last time, Deacon is panting, his chest rattling in massive breaths.
With his eyes fixed down his nose at the road, he presses his head against the headrest. His hands, still firmly on the steering wheel, are red and pink from his white-knuckle grip.
It isn’t until I’m back in my seat that he moves a hand from the steering wheel and scrubs it down his face.
“Fuck, Henri.” He looks over at me. “You don’t mess around. I’ve never.” Deacon shakes his head, looking out at the road again. “I’ve never had anyone... that fucking good.”
Deacon isn’t a flatterer. He doesn’t just say things to make me feel good. His praise brings a new heat to my face .
Pleased our mate well. He’s going to take good care of us in heat. My wolf preens.
I buckle my seat belt and settle in.
A few miles later, Deacon takes the next exit ramp, which boasts a single fast-food restaurant and a gas station.
Deacon pulls into a spot at the far end of a lot, and once he parks and cuts the engine, he squeezes my hand. “Stay right here.”
He mostly shuffles his pants up before hopping out and doing the fly.
Sleepy, I nod at him and recline my seat so I can curl up better. I’m feeling cold and vulnerable again. Despite his praises, I’m worried I’m doing everything wrong.
When he closes his car door, I notice how alone I’ve become again.
Deacon uses the fob and locks me in. I try to relax, but every noise outside seems like a threat.
What if he doesn’t come back? My wolf riots at him being gone.
I know that’s not the case. Logic says Deacon wouldn’t leave me like this. Staying as small as possible, I wait, listening to the minutes tick by.
“I’m saying that if they wanted to win the game, then they should have played better,” one man says as he walks by the SUV.
Well, no shit, Sherlock.
I draw a deep breath and focus on the other sounds.
Birds in the distance squawking about who knows what.
A mother, scolding her child for running out from between cars in the parking lot .
They’re normal sounds of a normal place. No one knows what’s happening to me but me. I’m safe.
Are there wolf packs in Wyoming? My wolf tries to think through the map.
I reach for my phone and pull up the pack data that Cade has saved in the joint server.
I’m scrolling through the list, trying to get it to categorize on my phone, when the doors unlock. I jump, yelping when the door behind me opens.
“Easy, Hen.” Deacon’s voice is soothing. The sweet undertone of reassurance is followed by the rustling of bags as he sets them on the floor. “You’re okay. I didn’t ask if you’re okay, and I’ll do better in the future. I was too eager to get you things that I didn’t care for what you needed.”
I uncurl from the ball I’ve been in and look over my shoulder at him.
Deacon leans against the doorframe and slowly runs his hand along my body, carefully working his way down my flesh. His smirk lights up his eyes. “There’s my girl. How are you doing?”
“We’re not going to make it to Minnesota, are we?” I whine, rolling over in the seat to face him.
Deacon hangs his head. “I don’t think so. I’d much rather have you draped over my bed. But I don’t think that’s going to happen, and I don’t think we should risk being stuck somewhere not safe.”
He reaches down to the floor, and I see that the bags he bought are brimming with things.
“You shop fast.” I observe blankly.
“Thank you.” He starts pulling things out. The first thing is a fluffy sherpa and microfiber blanket. “I got you the white one with the little pattern because I know you like minimalism.”
He crumples up that empty bag and throws it in the back seat. The next bag has two bottles of water, one bottle of a sports drink, and one of my favorite sodas. Which he proceeds to fill every single cupholder with.
“You didn’t have to do all this.” I object.
He chuckles, shaking his head, and pulls out the most snacks I’ve ever seen come out of one bag. “Sweet, salty, sour, nutrient dense, not so nutrient dense, hot, and cold.” He puts my favorite chocolate bar in my hand. Wrapping his fingers around mine, he locks eyes with me. “I know you think I don’t have to do this, but it’s my honor to be able to. And I’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel good to be able to do it.”
A gust of wind kicks up, and he lets my hand go. Stepping out and closing the SUV door, he almost completely shields me from the gust. Once it passes, he opens it again before adjusting my seat up to sitting and tucking me in among the blankets.
“Thank you.” I snuggle in, thrilled with how it feels on my skin.
“Anytime, Henri. Let’s get back on the road. I’ve a couple calls to make. But I’ll find some place to bunker you down.”
I let him fuss over me, tucking me in and making sure everything is just so before he goes to close the door.
“Deacon?” I stop him.
“Yeah, Hen?” He waits.
I hold my arms out for a hug. The smile is back, and he wraps his arms around me the best he can with my position in the car.
“I judged you, and I love you too,” I whisper in his ear.
Squeezing me tighter, he nuzzles his cold nose against my neck. After placing a kiss where he was nuzzled, he lets go of me. Deacon runs his hand along my jaw when stepping away with a huge smile on his face.
Back on his side of the car, he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling. A few minutes pass before he seems to have found what he was looking for, and the phone starts to ring. It rings through to voice mail.
“Hello, you’ve reached Emerson Witt of Rei Gato Properties. If this is an emergency, please hang up and call someone who cares. If this isn’t an emergency, leave a number at the tone, and I’ll call it to bitch you out for leaving me a message instead of texting like a normal person. Thank you and have a great day.”
“I’m calling in a favor.” Deacon hangs up without leaving his telephone number.
The voice on the recording was thick with a heavy Cajun accent that I recognize well enough. “Did you just casually call the Rei Gato, THE King of the Mountain Lions, and tell him he owes you one?”
“Oh, he owes me a hell of a lot more than one.” Deacon laughs, shaking his head and pulling out of the parking lot. “So much more than one. Can you pull up directions to Sturgis, South Dakota?”
“Sturgis. Got it.” I start typing it in. “Anywhere in particular in Sturgis?”
“Nope. He’ll call back before I need turn by—” Deacon’s phone starts to ring. “As I was saying.” Deacon answers it. “It’s about time you pick up the damn phone.” His voice holds a note of humor, but it’s accompanied by a scolding tone.
“Listen, next time you’re balls deep, why don’t you pick up your phone?”
The voice, which I recognize from a few conference calls with Cade, is in fact Emerson Witt. Though when talking to Deacon, he’s a lot looser lipped but equally confident.
“Ouch. Apologize to Deanie for being a bad fuck, finishing that quick.” Deacon tsks his tongue in disgust. “Your woman deserves way better than that since she puts up with your crazy ass all day.” Deacon covers his mouth to keep the laugh in.
“Listen here, you little dog-breathed asshole,” Emerson starts to threaten. “Ouch,” he hisses. “Yikes. Woman. Alright. Alright. Deacon, what can I do for you?”
“I need a place to lay low for a week and not be bothered. Table for two and only two if you feel me.” Deacon puts his hand on my lap.
“Ooh-ho-ho,” Emerson chuckles. “How soon?”
Deacon gestures to me, so I turn my phone to face him. “Like ninety minutes.”
“Deacon, you never make reservations in advance, do you?” Emerson sighs. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a place open. I’ll go get it stocked for you. Anything in particular you need that I wouldn’t think of?”
“Probably have Deanie help?” Deacon sighs. “Whole nine yards for a week, maybe ten days?”
“Aye, aye, Cap-i-tahn.” Emerson puts on a very exaggerated accent. “Gotta go. I’ll text you the address. Drive like you stole it.”
“Only if you insist,” Deacon groans and hangs up.
He looks down at the speedometer, and the vehicle slows down.
“So...” I look over at Deacon, trying to connect the dots between what I know of Emerson Witt and what just transpired. “He’s significantly more fun when he talks to you than when he talks to Cade.”
“Oh, it’s because he fuckin’ hates Cade and Cade hates him,” Deacon admits. He runs his hand through his dark hair, ruffling it a little bit. “In Cade’s defense... he did have to bail us both out one summer even though it was my fault, but you know Cade. In true loyal fashion, he blames Emerson. ”
“I’m sorry. What?” I shake my head. “You’ve been arrested?”
“More than once.” Deacon nods. “The bad boy vibes aren’t just vibes, Hen.”
“Do I even want to know?” I scrub my hands down my face. “This is something I should have been told. Why did it not get mentioned to me? This could blow up on social media.”
Deacon picks up a bottle of water from the cupholder and tries to hand it to me with strict instructions. “Drink the water. Take a deep breath and let it out.”
“I don’t want water. I want less chaos,” I groan, pulling my hair.
“Don’t we all.” Deacon laughs, but he also insists with the water again, holding it out to me with a bit more force. “I’m sorry I upset you, but the reason you don’t know about either of my arrests is that they’ve been taken off the books. They won’t be on social media because, for one, I wasn’t ever formally processed, just taken down to the station, and for two, Cade called in a favor. I own a nifty cool set of fingerprints though.”
The reassurance makes me feel better, and I grab the offered water and take a sip. It does nothing for my hot flash, but I don’t think that’s Deacon’s purpose in having me drink it.
“Sooo...” Deacon draws out. “I kind of just assumed you’d want me to spend your heat with you. I understand if not. And I’ve no problem telling Emerson to find me another accommodation. But I feel like a dick for making that assumption for you if it was wrong.”
“I don’t want to do this alone.” I reach for his hand, and he gives it to me to hold. “I know I’m going into or am in heat and that things are going to look and feel different when I get to the other side, but I don’t want to do this alone, and I can’t think of another wolf I’d rather go through this with.”