65. Deacon
Chapter 65
Deacon
The water at the kitchen sink runs warm, and I clean myself off. The collar of my shirt is wet, so I pull it off over my head before remembering our bags are still in the car.
Henri’s scent, still clinging to my shirt, is comforting when I pull it back on. I get to the front door when I pause.
She won’t like it if she doesn’t know where we went. My wolf concurs with my pause.
I stride to the bathroom, and with the back of my knuckles, I knock. “Hey, Hen, I’m gonna go get our bags, are you okay if I go outside, or do you want me to wait for you?”
“I’m okay.” Henri doesn’t sound sure of herself, but I take her words at face value.
Back across the cottage, I leave the front door open and sprint to the SUV. I swipe the bags and the box of fun from Lena’s attempt to corrupt Ansel and Morrigan and sprint back, closing the door behind me. I’m gone less than a minute.
“I’m back,” I tell her, walking close to the bathroom door.
“Thank you. Can...” Henri hesitates. “Can you grab me some pants? ”
“Sure thing, Henri.”
I put the bags on the bed and rifle through hers, finding a single pair of sweatpants. Hesitantly, I bring them to my nose and sniff. They haven’t even been worn since they were washed after being purchased during the week in Utah. She doesn’t have anything comfortable to put on, and digging through her bag, I find a separate pouch with only one clean pair of underwear. It’s a thong and doesn’t look super comfortable, but there’s a washer and dryer off the kitchen I can use. There are no T-shirts or soft clothing in the bag.
But it’s not like I could have packed her bag for her. We weren’t supposed to be gone this long, let alone at all. Almost all the clothes I’m wearing are ones bought by Meaghan and her team while we were out at Ansel’s. The shopping haul they came back with was divided out as best it could be, and laundry machines ran practically around the clock everywhere.
Henri didn’t even change to sleep at Ansel’s house. The stress she was under held her too captive.
Fuck. I’m a shit mate. I’ll make up for it .
I run my hand back through my hair before I open the zipper on my bag. I’ve got two clean T-shirts left, so I add one to the stack of clothes for her.
I shoot off a text to Emerson, asking for comfortable clothing in Henri’s size to be washed and left on the deck. I don’t even set my phone down before there’s an acknowledgment and a timeframe for the request from a concierge number associated with the property.
It’s no wonder they’re the top-rated rental properties anywhere they open them.
I take the few comfortable items I have for her to the bathroom. “I brought some clean clothes for you. I noticed you didn’t have any soft, comfy shirts, so I brought you one of mine, if you want it.”
My eyes squeeze shut involuntarily while I wait for her response, hoping she says yes. Henri owns me even if she hasn’t fully come to realize it, but damn it if I don’t want her in my things, my space, my arms. I want to possess her too.
Strangely, Henri opens the door only far enough to stick her hand out. I place the pile in her hand and let her recoil in and close the bathroom door behind her.
“I’m going to start a load of laundry and then dinner. Is there anything in your clothes you’re afraid I might ruin?”
“There’s one shirt that’s dry clean only, it’s the light blue one, and my blazer.” She’s talking about the clothes we wore to Ansel’s house and then to the trial. “But you don’t have to do my laundry. I can handle it.”
“It’s my privilege,” I assure her, not positive she completely comprehends how I’m yearning for her. “Don’t listen to Lena’s groans, which I’m sure you’ve heard. Most of her stuff I ruined in the machine was me being a protective older brother.”
Henri laughs from the other side of the door, breaking some of the tension. “Fair enough.”
Fish, more fish, beef, chicken, more fish. I shake my head. Cats and their damn fish.
I still have my nose in the refrigerator, trying to make sense of the food Deanie and Emerson left us, when Henri emerges from the bathroom.
“Hey,” Henri says softly.
My blood runs cold through me. That single ‘hey’ is not settling.
She walks around the peninsula to join me in the kitchen but pauses, further raising the ‘oh shit’ feeling in my stomach, and I turn to devote my full attention to her .
“So.” Henri draws a deep breath. “I’m afraid.”
We can fix fear. What is she afraid of? We can kill it. My wolf immediately assumes it’s not us.
Henri covers her face with her hands, and I’m positive the answer is going to be me.
“You’re going to be so mad when I say this, and just, please remember it’s over, it’s done. It’s not going to happen again.”
Not us. My wolf corrects me.
“I haven’t...” Henri swallows hard. “I haven’t.” She draws a deep breath, then pulls her hands from her face and looks me square in the eye. “I haven’t had sex that I really wanted or enjoyed in a really long time, with the exception of our time at the Wisconsin house, and I’m afraid because...”
“Because you don’t know how you’re going to react or handle it.” I nod, filling in the gaps, but leave off the judgmental answer— because he’s been using sex as a weapon against you —locked in my head.
She nods. “I just don’t know.”
I keep my distance from her, giving her my absolute best behavior despite wanting to wrap her in my arms. She doesn’t need me to force love on her; she needs me to respect that she doesn’t know what anything other than Nathan’s abuse looks like.
“You’re in charge here, Hen,” I reiterate. “I’m here for you, and if you don’t want me here, then I’ll leave.” It’ll kill me, but I’ll leave. “Nothing is going to happen between us that you don’t fully consent to. If you want a safeword, name one. If you want me to ask before we do anything, I will. If you want me to stay and not touch you, I will.”
Henri shakes her head adamantly at that last one.
“I meant it, Henri.” I nod, reassuring her. “If you want me to leave my pants on through this, then this’ll be the last time we talk about it. You will not hear a complaint from me. If you want a big knife out of the butcher block, you can have it. This isn’t about me.”
When Henri turns her head away from me, the light glints off the moisture in her eyes.
Anything you want, Henri. I don’t keep pushing her for a decision aloud.
“What if I freak out?” Her question is a jump in logic.
Normally, I can follow her thought process, but I can’t connect the dots this time.
“Give me a little more to work with?” I try to piece it together. “Freak out, how or about what?”
“What if I panic, or we’re trying, and I can’t?” With the pads of her fingers, she brushes away some but not all of her tears.
My fingers itch to finish the job.
“How would you like to handle that?” I wait before offering her suggestions.
I know how I would normally handle it, but this isn’t about me stopping and giving her space, which would be the absolute first instinct.
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head and looks at me. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
I’m going to kill Nathan for every fucked - up thing he’s ever made her think or feel about herself. It might have to be years from now to avoid suspicion. But I’m going to disembowel him and make him watch me do it.
“You will never disappoint me.” I reassure her. “I can’t be disappointed because every second you let me stay in the same room, breathing the same air as you, is just another gift. Disappointment only happens when you have an expectation. My expectation was that you would send me packing the moment we got here. ”
Henri frowns. “I wouldn’t do that. You’ve been so good to me.”
“You owe me nothing, Henri.” I don’t know how to get that through to her.
She’s our mate, my wolf presses.
“Mate or not, there’s no score to keep. I am good to you because you deserve someone to be good to you. The fact that I could do the bare minimum and you would thank me for it hurts my heart.” I swallow hard and look away from her. “I guess what I’m trying to say is: believe me. Believe what I say. Don’t fight what you want because you think I’m going to do or be something different. I’m exactly what I say I am.”
Henri is quiet. In my periphery, I can see her fighting with herself. She wrings the hem of her shirt, a full breath of air held in her lungs waiting to be released.
What I wouldn’t give to ease that turmoil .
“You wouldn’t touch me? If we...” She stalls. “If we had sex, you wouldn’t touch me. I know we’ve had sex and the knife, and it helped. I’m just... What if I can’t?”
My wolf cocks his head, equally confused with the logistics of that.
Then a lightbulb turns on. “Tie me to a chair, the bed, the couch, or bind me on my own. If all you want is my cock, it’s yours.”
“Now that’s an idea,” she says under her breath.
“Okay, when you say it that way, it sounds like you want to cut it off, and there’s already a box of disembodied ones so can I at least keep mine attached?” I wince, the words coming out before my brain can stifle them.
But unexpectedly, Henri laughs. Her socks and pants rustle on the floor as she slides closer to me across the hardwood. “I meant the chair, Deacon.”
She rests her hand on my chest, and I bring my head back to face her and shrug. “That’s probably a safer and more convenient plan than removing it.”
Henri snakes her arms around my waist and hugs me. Normally, I would hug her back, but something about my touch unsettled her, and I’m not pushing it.
With a huff, she presses her head harder against my chest. “Quit sucking at hugging.”
At her encouragement, I wrap my arms around her. Gently holding her to my chest, I free the tension I’d been holding.
Do we have to wait years to kill Nathan? My wolf nuzzles forward, trying to get more of Henri’s touch, pulling for her wolf.
I don’t answer him. I don’t need to. The murder plots are already growing.
The good news is Henri likes fish. The bad news is that after dinner and we’ve settled in for a movie, we aren’t through the opening credits when her heat takes a turn south and she grows warm.
She whines. The very wolf sound tugs at my heart and cock with equal force.
Calm down, I remind myself. She’s just starting to get being a wolf .
“You were serious, right?” Henri kicks the blanket off her legs.
“I’m mostly always serious.” I lie.
Henri laughs, but it turns into a frustrated sigh. “You were serious that I could...”
The embarrassment increases her heat. Her face flushes, and I rest my hand on it. She seems to be okay with general comforting touches, the kinds that wolves are supposed to want, to crave.
“Could... ?” I try to figure out which of the million suggestions I feel like I offered her that she could be referring to.
“Tie you down,” she whispers.
My cock goes to half-mast just at the thought of letting Henri use me. “Yeah, Hen. Anything and everything if it’ll make you feel comfortable.”
“Okay. How?”
Henri’s innocence causes my heart to flutter happily.
“I can think of a few options.”
The box of fun my deviant sister sent Ansel for one.
I nod and let her lead the way back to the dining room. I open the box and set out a couple of options for her.
“Does Lena just assume everyone is kinky?” Henri picks up a pair of fluffy handcuffs.
I nod. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
Henri nibbles her bottom lip, and it makes me jealous, wanting to do it too. “You should get naked now.”
Not needing to be told twice, I pull my shirt off over the top of my head and set it on the table before reaching for the button on my jeans.
“Wait.” Henri stops me.
Frozen stiff, I’m only breathing enough to sustain brain function.
She steps closer to me and moves my hands out of the way to do it herself.
I’m short-circuiting with desire. Pull it together.
I try, but it was different in the car. Henri sucked me off like it was her fucking job, and it was amazing. But that was before I knew she was afraid. It was before I knew I had to behave. Everything I do going forward has to empower her to be the woman from the car.
She pops the button open and then slides the zipper down, relieving some of the uncomfortable pressure of my stiff cock confined by clothes.
Henri’s breathing is ragged.
“You don’t have to do this,” I remind her.
She growls at me. It’s fierce and intimidating.
I take that as my cue to shut my mouth.
You pissed off our mate, my wolf snaps, chastising me.
She slides her fingers into my waistband and pulls down both my jeans and boxers.
Teased by the thought of what might be to come has left me hard and protruding for her.
“Did I mention how nice this is?” She looks up at me.
Avoiding speaking, I shake my head. Did she just... call my cock nice?
“Well, I was acquainted with it earlier, and I have to admit I very much approve.” She puts a hand on my sternum and then points to the chair.
My wolf practically rolls belly up inside me, giving her everything just for more of her approval. And if it weren’t for being given an order by Henri, I probably would too.
I follow the silent order and seat myself.
There’s a soft confidence in Henri, hiding behind fear, as she walks behind me and handcuffs my wrists behind me and the chair.
My cock is painfully throbbing as I watch her. It’s the sweetest kind of torture.
Henri’s wolf assesses me, and a fire crackles in her eyes. The gold irises drag my wolf forward to meet hers.
“Like what you see, Hen?” I wet my bottom lip. “I know I do.”
She nods, and a hint of mischief has her biting her bottom lip. Then the little minx strips slowly. Henri drags my T-shirt up her frame like a fucking pro. It comes up, and the undersides of her breasts peek out.
I’m staring. I know I am, but this is what she wants: me a captivated captivate.
Her arousal is spiking, the scent filling the space around us. Her skin is flushed, and sweat is starting to glisten across it. Needing to be free of the warmth of her clothing, she finally pulls the shirt over her head, exposing her tits.
I’ve seen them before. We’re wolves. But like this, nothing compares to this. I let out a ragged breath, trying to will myself to calm down. It’s not going awesome.
But now, with my eyes on her, Henri’s found some new confidence, and she militarizes it against me. She breathes in deeply and pushes it out. “I didn’t know this could be so hot.”
“I’ve never been this aroused for a strip tease.” I adjust in my seat, trying to ease some of the throbbing.
I know it’s useless. The only thing that’s going to fix this is emptying my balls.
Henri steps closer. The sweatpants she’s wearing are tied loosely and sitting low, showing off the bottom of her stomach.
I’m salivating and I swallow, but I want another taste. I can’t get enough of her.
Standing between my legs, Henri looks down at me. “Can I touch you?”
I hold back a laugh and nod. “You can do anything you want to me, Henri. Anything at all.”
And I mean that because as much as I objected to the idea of cutting my cock off, I’d bleed out on the floor if it meant she was happy. I’d live and die at her hand a thousand times over for each second that she looks at me.
Henri runs the back of her knuckles across my face and loops her fingers into my hair, pulling firmly. She comes nose to nose with me, and I stay perfectly still despite the devil inside me screaming to lean forward and kiss her.
That devil is left screaming because she doesn’t kiss me. Henri pulls her face back but maintains contact, circling her hand around my dick. And I’m glad I looped my ankles behind the legs of the chair to keep me seated.
Fuck our mate, my wolf demands, not understanding, or caring, about the trust this is building with her.
She strokes me until I can’t stay quiet, and I know she’s waiting for me because the moment I open my mouth and utter ‘fuck,’ Henri lets me go. Then she’s back to teasing me in a whole different way. Henri tucks her thumbs into the waistband of her sweats and inches them down around her hips, leaving her underwear in place. I’m treated to the view of the front of her thighs being revealed in slow, calculated movements, and then when she bends at the waist, her tits hang, tempting me for a lick, a suck, a bite.
Her sweats hit the floor, and she steps out of them, kicking them to the side.
I’ve given up on anticipating anything she may or may not do. There is no rhyme or reason that I can deduce in this slow seduction.
Does she not know she already has me?
Henri turns away from me, and I cock my head to the side, already curling my fingers together, ready to push through the cuffs. I know Lena only gets escapable toys. These handcuffs are here for Henri’s peace of mind. And I’m willing to blow my cover with them if she isn’t okay.
But I’ve underestimated Henri because, with a glance over her shoulder, she gives a little smile before skimming her hands down her sides, sliding the panties off, and giving me a perfect view of her ass. She wiggles it, teasing me before stepping out of the panties.
“Fuck me.” I look to the ceiling above her, trying not to explode.
“That’s the idea.” Henri steps closer to me and then pushes my chin down with her thumb until my eyes lock on hers. “Is this still okay?”
“Significantly more than okay.” I nod.
Claim our mate. My wolf is starting to sound like a Neanderthal, begging me to drag her back to our den and keep her all to ourselves.
“How?” Henri looks down, and I follow her gaze.
I unhook my feet from the legs of the chair, and pins and needles flood the nerves, protesting the movement. But I make her a seat with my thighs, and Henri nods, understanding.
“You don’t have to do this,” I remind her. “I’m not expecting anything, especially this, from you.”
“I know.” She nods and moves to position herself. But she’s unsteady and unbalanced, trying to work her way onto my lap.
“Hands on my shoulders.” The metaphorical angel inside keeps me honest in the handcuffs. Shuffling out of them and helping her would be the easiest way to do this but the fastest way to break her trust.
Henri does as I instruct.
“Now, throw your leg over.”
Henri’s short, almost too short, to straddle me and the chair.
She positions herself with her weight resting on her butt on my lap. It feels like Henri’s flesh is on fire.
She scrunches her face, trying to figure out the movement.
“When you’re ready,” I say, “you’re going to lean against my chest and push yourself forward against me. Then, with one hand, guide my shaft to your center. ”
“Okay.” Henri nods and immediately follows the instruction.
There is no slow settling in or further hesitation. Henri is a sex goddess hidden in a modest package. She slides herself all the way down my cock in a fluid motion until she’s seated, entirely taking me.
My heartbeat is erratic. Her pussy pulses around my cock, and I’m so fucking close. This is what I get for taking almost a year sabbatical from sex. I’m fighting for my life against an orgasm just from her sitting on my lap.
“Fuck,” Henri pants. “I can feel you twitching inside me. You can’t possibly make sex better every time we fuck.”
“And yet, I do.” I can’t keep my smart mouth contained and stop myself from coming.
“Don’t judge me when I come in like four seconds because I’m so fucking hot right now.” Henri says what I’m thinking.
She’s focused, looking down at where we’re joined. The rocking of her hips forward and backward fascinates her on some level.
I’m resisting kissing her. I could just place a little one on her temple. But I promised to behave, I remind myself and the little devil inside.
My toes curl, and Henri moans and gasps. Digging her fingers into my shoulder, she raises and lowers onto my cock, grinding forward, then up and backward and down.
It’s pure torture.
The way she moans, the heady little breaths in between.
“Henri,” I warn, fighting back my release to give her every second she needs to come. “So close.”
“Mm-hmm” is all she gets out.
Her next moan is louder, and then she digs her sharp nails into my flesh, throwing her head back in the rapture of her orgasm .
Between the tension, the rise and fall of her hips against me, and her walls constricting around my cock, I follow her over the edge. Balls twitching, I come so hard I see stars behind my closed eyelids as I gasp her name.
She falls forward, and I kiss her neck, tasting her sweat. I lick her skin, savoring it. It’s delicious.
Her pussy continues to pulse with such intensity I can feel her milking every drop from me.
I fight against my intense desire to embrace the deep relaxation and sink into sleep.
Henri murmurs sleepily against my neck, her head having come to rest with her hand on my shoulder.
I nuzzle against her. “Come on, Hen, we gotta get you cleaned up.”
The saddest little groan comes from her. “Okay.”
She struggles with her own body for lucidity. The movements she makes are an uncoordinated struggle to pull herself off me.
Frustrated, she huffs. “You’re too fucking big.”
Well, that’s a compliment.
I jam open the handcuffs and let myself out on one side and then the other, catching it before it falls to the floor. I set it on the table with a soft thud and then carefully guide Henri up and off my cock to settle her on my lap.
She snuggles in, drawing slow breaths. The sweat on her skin is rapidly cooling her off now that the wave has passed.
“Wait a minute.” Very groggy, Henri leans back, examining me and then my hands on her hips. “Weren’t you... ?”
“Lena’s big on safety. They’re not super difficult to escape.” I incline my head toward the handcuffs on the table but quickly deflect. “The important part was you felt safe enough to explore. You had trust in me not disrupting your pleasure because there was a barrier preventing it. ”
“And then you just let yourself out.” Henri’s face, despite being tired, holds annoyance.
No, not annoyance, something stronger that cuts me down.
“I wasn’t sure it was safe for you to try to climb off my cock, so for your safety and mine, I took the appropriate measures to prevent an accident.” I’ve never been on the defensive with her, and I don’t like it.
She closes her eyes, seemingly letting it go. “How can you just come that hard and then still use big words?”
“No idea.” I flex my fingers, getting ready to help her again.
Her face relaxes, and sleep looks like it’s going to claim her, but before it gets that far, her eyes shoot open. “You did... didn’t you?”
“Yeah, Henri.” With a soft smile, I try to reassure her of the truth about to come out of my mouth. “Best orgasm of my life.”
With a sigh and shake of her head, Henri tries to stand again. This time, she’s more coordinated and less baby-fawn-like on her feet, but her voice is small. “Help me clean up?”
“My pleasure.” I’m tired, but standing and following her to the bathroom to clean up is not an issue.
Henri lets me thoroughly clean her folds, inner thighs, and butt. I give myself a quick pass with the washcloth and then gently kiss the tip of her nose.
“I’ve gotta pee,” Henri groans, and I take myself out of the bathroom.
While waiting, I pull on pajama pants, shake out her clothes from the floor, straighten the dining room, and, with the remaining time, panic that she’s not okay in the bathroom.
She was really hurt that I could get out. I wring my hands. She’s never given me that sort of a look.
The door finally opens, and Henri emerges, yawning. “Will you sleep with me? ”
“Kinda just did.” I tilt my chin toward the dining room table suggestively.
“Not what I meant, Deacon.” She gives me a small growl, pulling the sweatpants and underwear back up over her legs.
To get the pants clear of her feet, she shuffles, and her perfect palm-sized tits bounce.
The traitorous cock, who just came, stirs at the sight.
Fuck, heat is a powerful aphrodisiac.
“If you’d like me to share a bed with you, it would be my pleasure.” I prove that despite my smart mouth, I’m not completely lost.
“Can we go to bed now?” Henri pulls my shirt over her head and pulls her blonde hair out from under the collar.
“Lead the way.” I offer my hand out in the direction of the bedroom.
Instead of walking away from me on the shortest path back to the bedroom, Henri walks directly up to me and wraps her arms around my waist.
“I’m sorry,” Henri murmurs into my chest. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just... I’m trying.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” I whisper.
“You smell nervous.” Henri’s words are news to me.
I deflect from my feelings, using humor instead as I give her the truth. “Of course I am, it’s a wet dream to be holed up in a beautiful cottage in the middle of nowhere with the hottest woman in the entire world begging to fuck herself on my cock. What if I fuck it up?”
“You can’t fuck it up.” Henri fists my shirt but leans back to look up at me. “I’m trying not to let you get mad and, at the same time, balance how to get through this without freaking out.”
“You’re not responsible for my actions or my feelings.” I bring my hands up her shoulders, hesitating, but I choose to trail my fingers up her throat and cup her face anyway. “I’m already plotting Nathan’s murder, Henri. There’s nothing I’m going to do about it until we get back home, and I won’t negatively react about anything related to him.”
“Deacon, no murder. We broke up and I blocked him. It’s fine. It’s over. You and I feel our wolves pulling to each other. We’re mates.” Henri’s soft smile is groggy at best.
Let it go. She doesn’t need to know that he’s going to die regardless if she broke up with him.
I nod in theoretical agreement with her. “I understand. But it’s not over for you. Whatever he’s done to you is living in your brain, and you’re working to get past it. Know that whatever you need, whatever you tell me, I’ll follow as long as it keeps you safe.”
She nuzzles against my hand like I’ve seen Lena do to Finn, and I’ve got to have Dinah listen to my heart because it’s all sorts of erratic flailing and pushing around in my chest.
“Bedtime,” she murmurs. “I hope you’re a good big spoon.”
“I’m a wolf, of course I’m a good big spoon,” I assure her, following her dutifully to the bedroom.
In bed, I curl up behind Henri, making her the most perfect little spoon. I nuzzle my nose into her hair and kiss the back of her neck. Then I squeeze my arm around her waist.
“You take cuddling very seriously,” she murmurs, half asleep. “Not that I’m super experienced, but I do believe you’re a top-notch cuddler. This could be my favorite part.”
Dark with thoughts of murder and heavy with the weight of sated lust, I relax into her praise and let sleep consume me.