Page 26 of Deacon (The Sovereign Mountain #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

DEACON

I’ve been fucking around long enough. The time for that is over. Maybe she’ll be pissed at me, but at this point, I don’t mind. I can work this out with her all night if need be, but I won’t be walking away.

And neither will she.

She has her hands clasped in her lap, eyes fixed on the road. God, does she look pretty, even ignoring me. Her hair is loose, tangled down her back. She’s in a black sweater that hugs her body and a pair of jeans so tight, I could lick them off her thighs. I’d put my hand on her, but she might bite my head off.

We park, and I cut the engine.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she whispers.

I circle the car, pulling open her door. “Come on, sweetheart, jump in my arms and I’ll carry you. Ground’s muddy.”

She turns, eyes flashing in a way that tells me she won’t be jumping into my arms anytime soon. So, I scoop her out of the truck, put her over my shoulder, and carry her into the house. She’s stunned, hanging limply. Taking advantage of that, I set her down and lock the door.

“Don’t touch me,” she snaps, backing up .

“Sweetheart—”

“And don’t sweetheart me.” She spins on her heel and makes a dash for the staircase.

I go after her. She’s headed to the place I want her most anyway. I follow into my room and shut the door, kicking back against it so the lock falls. She makes a dash for the bathroom. I shoot my arm out, catch her around the waist, and pull her against me.

“Let me go,” she pants.

“No chance,” I say.

She wriggles violently, her hair falling over her face. I reach up to brush it away. She hauls her head back and bites down on my thumb—not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to be a warning I’m not in the mindset to mind.

“Jesus, fuck, girl,” I say, spinning her to face me. “You need a rabies shot or something? Calm down.”

“You kidnapped me,” she hisses.

I take a beat. She’s not wrong, but in my mind, I’d framed it as more of a heist. Or a stagecoach robbery. She wriggles again, both her hands clasped together in my grip. Her soft body pushes against mine, her stomach against my groin, waking my dick up.

Something dark I’ve felt since she ran from me lifts its head. It’s possessive and angry. Not at her, but at the people who keep her from me. That anger has bubbled in me every second since she left.

She thinks she has a responsibility to them, but she doesn’t. She has a right to be happy, to not be the pack mule for Aiden fucking Hatfield and his sons. She deserves to be loved the way only I can love her.

“Take your clothes off,” I say quietly. “Or I’ll take them off for you.”

Her eyes widen. A slow flush creeps up her neck. I release her and go to where I put the harness and belt. It lays in shimmering, soft rings on the folded cloth, silvery and light, almost like chainmail. I haven’t done metalworking this intricate in a while. I didn’t have anyone to wear it.

Now, I do.

I return. She takes a step back, eyes wide .

“Go on,” I say.

Her throat bobs as she swallows. Then, she pulls her sweater off, revealing her soft curves, her breasts overflowing her cotton bra. Jesus, she’s so beautiful, it makes my chest hurt.

She hesitates. I nod.

Her fingers trip up, trying to get her jeans unbuttoned. I set the harness down on the belt and kneel in front of her, moving her hands away. She goes still, watching as I unfasten her jeans and work them down her thighs.

She’s wearing a pair of pale blue panties. I bend, nipping at her clit through the fabric, inhaling the sweet scent of her pussy. She lets out a moan.

“I should say no,” she whispers.

“Sweetheart, you were never going to tell me no,” I say, pulling her panties free. She grips my shoulder while she steps out of them.

“Still,” she gasps. “You don’t deserve it.”

“I know,” I say. “But that won’t stop me.”

I look up into her eyes. There’s something holding her back, something she’s asking for but doesn’t have the courage to say out loud.

“You remember what I said about safewords?” I say.

She nods, eyes huge. “Red?”

“Red,” I say, rising. “Now, I’m going to fuck you, like it or not, and it’ll be how I want it to be. When I’m done, I’m going to lock that pussy up so you don’t forget who owns it.”

Her jaw goes slack. Then, she nods, a soft, pretty blush seeping up her neck.

“You know how to address me,” I say.

Her tongue darts out and in. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl. Stand there, cross your arms.”

She obeys. I pick up the harness, leaving the chastity strap. My cock is so hard, it hurts as I crouch before her and slip my hand between her legs. She’s soaked, and it leaves a trail on my fingers. Gently, I apply pressure, and she shifts her legs apart.

It’s been a while since I put a harness on anyone, but my muscle memory kicks into gear. One strap each goes around her upper thighs, another strap going all the way to her clit and attaches to them, creating tension.

Another hooks over her ass, a little ring in the middle to attach the chastity band onto. Without it, her pussy is exposed, surrounded by soft silver chainmail straps, almost like crotchless panties. Except this stays on her until I decide to unlock the lightweight padlock on her hip.

The upper part hooks right above her clit. This chain is so fine, it pools like liquid in my hand as I unravel it. The top loops loosely around her neck and clasps at the top of her spine.

I stand. “Go bend over the bed and tuck your hands behind your back.”

She obeys, shifting experimentally. The metal will warm up, and she won’t feel it anymore. The way I make my chastity equipment is different from other Doms I’ve met. Mine isn’t made for discomfort. No, it’s for soft ownership.

I want her to understand that she belongs to me, deep in her bones, but I never want her to hurt.

She’s been hurt enough.

I lay the chastity strap on the dresser. I’ll lock that on her in the morning. “I’m going to eat you out to warm you up. Then, I’ll ride you harder than you’re used to, sweetheart. Understood?”

She nods.

“Out loud,” I say.

“Yes, daddy.” The words slip out in a whispering breath. Her head is laid on the bed, eyes big, following my steps as I come back to her. Her spine is arched, her toes just touching the floor. It spreads her ass, showing her pussy tucked between the harness.

I kneel, lifting one leg and bracing her thigh on the edge of the bed.

Her pussy is soaked, flushed pink.

“Can you be a good girl and keep quiet for me while I eat your pussy?” I ask, voice low.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Daddy. ”

I bend in, dipping my tongue in the valley between her thighs and running it over the slick opening of her cunt. She whimpers, tensing. I dig my grip into her hip as my tongue drags all the way up to her asshole.

She twitches back. I bring my hand down on her ass, hard enough that she gets the message.

“My pussy,” I say. “Mine.”

She lifts her head, looking over her shoulder. “You’re jealous,” she breathes.

That catches me off guard. I stand, picking her up and turning her to face me. The defiance, the spirit I know, is bubbling back up. I should have known she wasn’t giving into me that easily. I think all I did was make her shy back when I put the harness on her, but now, she’s swinging back.

I touch her chin, turning it up. “I am jealous,” I say. “I want your body, your time, and everything else.”

“You can’t keep me here,” she says.

“I can and I will. That harness has a leash clip on it, and if need be, you’ll sleep with it locked on the bed.”

Her jaw drops. I swear, I can hear our hearts thump. I see it in the distance—the point of no return where she finds out what kind of man I am. But this time, it’s different.

This time, she can’t leave.