Caged(47)

It went like this:

Cue Tim's braying laughter after they journeyed into the dank cellar: Hey, Mol, remember when we were fourteen and stole a bottle of homemade dandelion wine from down here?

Cue Molly's tittering laugh. Yes, the woman fucking tittered at Tim: All I remember about that night was puking outside, next to the grain bin.

And so it went. On and on.

Deacon pretended to tune them out. But that meant his thoughts drifted to his own memories. He hated getting sucked back into that time of his life, before life as he knew it ended. 

That was how he defined his life. Before. And after.

What will happen when Molly asks about your childhood?

He'd do the same thing he did when anyone pried into his life before; he'd hedge. Or flat-out lie if he had to. With her, he could fuck her until she ceased to think at all.

Brandi and Jennifer clomped down the stairs.

The one good thing about Tim showing up was the cousins had steered clear of them.

Molly tossed an empty bottle in the garbage. "We're almost done."

"Good. The auction guy will be here soon."

Jennifer stepped forward. "We need to talk to you alone."

"About family business that's none of theirs," Brandi said, gesturing to Tim and Deacon.

"Nice try," Deacon drawled. "Any family business will be handled by Molly's attorney from here on out."

"You've just completely taken over her life, haven't you?" Jennifer said.

"Nope. Molly can take care of herself. I just ride shotgun and don't let anyone run roughshod over her."

Tim snickered.

"Whatever. We'll be in the barn taking inventory."

"I guess we're done here." Molly stood and slapped the dust off her hands. "I need to wash up before I leave."

The mood was more subdued as Molly walked through the house one last time. Deacon would've left her alone, but he didn't trust her cousins not to ruin this moment for her too.

Finally she reached for his hand and said, "Let's go."

Tim was waiting for them in the driveway. His focus was entirely on Molly. "You okay?"

"It's surreal to think this is the last time I'll be here." She shook off her melancholy. "Would you like to have supper with us since we're leaving in the morning?"

Tim's gaze winged between Molly and Deacon. "Actually, my folks made plans."

"I've hardly seen you. Can you come to the motel when you get a moment so we can say goodbye?"

Deacon set his hands on her shoulders and pulled her firmly against his chest. "You'd better call first. We probably won't hear you banging on the door when we're in the bedroom."

"Omigod, Deacon! What is wrong with you?"

Tim frowned. "Molly, you sure you'll be all right?"

"She's fucking fine. I take care of what's mine."

Molly looked up at him.

Deacon pressed his lips to hers. As much as he'd love to kiss her until the passion consumed them, if he didn't back off, he'd be fucking her right here in front of her good friend Tim. When he rested his hand on her throat and stroked her jaw, her brown eyes were black with lust.

For him. Not for that fucker who stood ten feet away, trying to encroach on his territory.

"Uh, yeah. I'll be heading out now," Tim said. "And I'll definitely give you a call before I swing by tonight."

Deacon said, "You do that," without looking away from Molly.

Only when he heard Tim's car door slam and his engine start did he release her.

Neither spoke on the drive to the motel.

He parked in front of their room.

Molly scrambled out of the car.

Deacon followed her. He moved in behind her, watching her struggle with the room key. "Don't run from me, babe. You've got nowhere to go."

She shoved the key in the lock.

"Here's what'll happen once we're alone," he murmured in her ear. "I'll be on you. In you. My mouth. My fingers. My cock. I'll remind you who I am to you." Deacon grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled it aside to get at her neck. He opened his mouth and sucked a love bruise on the tender skin.



       
         
       
        

Her knees buckled. "Deacon."

"Open the goddamn door."

As soon as they were inside, he crushed her mouth beneath his.

This was what he needed-to gorge himself on the taste of her. To revel in her response as she kissed him back with equal voraciousness.

Between kisses he demanded, "Lift," and yanked her shirt over her head. He twisted the front clasp of her bra until her tits tumbled into his hands. After tossing the bra aside, he undid the button on her pants and lowered the zipper. "Off. Everything."