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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

DEACON

I start setting out her things right away. I enjoy the caretaking aspect of being in a Dominant and submissive dynamic more than masochism, although I wouldn’t turn down putting her over my knee and spanking that beautiful ass. But outside of that, I’m grounded by giving her what she needs, even when she doesn’t understand.

It’s my job to know her heart. To keep it, to protect it.

My life has been so chaotic. I find so much peace in this exchange of power and care. It’s the same with bondage. It feels like the eye of the hurricane—a place to rest, to breathe, to feel together.

I set her clothes on the chair by the fireplace. Then, I write a note for her and set it on the sink. She’s still asleep when I leave the bathroom and step into the hallway, shutting the door behind me. Downstairs, I can hear Stu whimpering in his bed in the living room.

I take him outside with me, letting him stumble through the grass as I walk toward the barn. Inside, Bones is already awake and trying to get out of his stall. I feed him and turn him out into the paddock where he can get back inside if he gets too cold.

Then, I take Silver Phantom out because she’s throwing her head and prancing. The ranch is quiet as I ride. I’m quiet too .

I think we’ve made a breakthrough in the last few days. The dynamic has shifted. Freya finally feels safe enough to let me take care of her. I found the key to her heart in that room in the attic. Now, everything has changed.

But we still have a long way to go yet.

After I get back to the barn and put Silver Phantom away, I head inside. The smell of coffee and something frying hits my nose, and my stomach rumbles. I kick off my boots and hang my hat and coat up, heading down the hall.

She’s laying plates on the table. She’s wearing exactly what I left out for her, but it fits her even better than in my imagination. That round ass looks so good in the short skirt that, suddenly, I’m across the room, bringing my palm down on it to watch it shake.

She whirls, eyes big. I bend and kiss her neck.

“Fuck, you look good,” I murmur. “You smell good too.”

She does, all warm vanilla and home. Mindlessly, I nuzzle her neck and inhale. My hips ride up on her ass, making her gasp.

“Deacon, it’s breakfast time,” she whispers.

“I know. I’m hungry.” The firm curve of her ass feels so good against my dick, I can’t stop.

She wriggles in my grip, turning to face me. “The food will get cold.”

I kiss her until she’s breathless. Then, she pushes me into my chair and fills the plates like her face isn’t glowing pink. We eat in silence for a minute. As usual, her cooking is the best thing I’ve ever tasted, second only to her pussy.

“Did you read the note I left?” I ask.

She goes perfectly still. Her eyes swivel.

“I read it,” she says.

“And?”

She sets her fork down primly. “I don’t do that, really.”

Taken aback, I put my utensils down too. “You don’t touch yourself, sweetheart?”

Her cheeks are so pink now, they’re glowing. She shakes her head .

“So when I fucked you the first time…was that the first time you came?”

“No,” she says. “I didn’t say I’ve never done it, I just don’t do it much. Why? Do you?”

I shrug. “Yeah, a few times a week, maybe more. Less since you got here.”

“Why?” Her wary gaze has a hint of curiosity.

“It’s like an oil change. Out with the old, in with the new,” I say. “Nothing wrong with it.”

She squirms. It’s killing her to have this conversation at the breakfast table.

“Do you like the way it feels?” I ask.

“Of course I do,” she manages. “It’s just…I think all the years of being called a whore made me think that if I did anything sexual at all, it would prove that right.”

“I get called a whore,” I say. “It’s not a bad thing.”

She turns a sharp stare on me. “You’re a man. When people say that, it’s a joke. When they say it to me, it’s an insult.”

“What about when I say it to you?” I ask, leaning in.

She bites her lip, releasing it, leaving a white mark.

“It’s nice when you do it,” she says, voice raspy. “It feels good, safe.”

I study her. Inside, I’m imagining going into the blacksmith shop, picking up one of those fence spikes, and sticking it into the side of Aiden’s head.

He’s such an asshole.

And he’s so weird about Freya, so deliberate in the way he tortured her.

Killing him would feel so good.

“In the morning, I want you to take the time that I’m in the barn and get yourself off,” I say. “I’ll get you a vibrator for it. When you’re done, leave the vibrator on my pillow.”

Her eyes widen.

“You want me to put a used vibrator on your pillow?” she asks, horrified .

“Yeah, I do.”

“But why?”

“Because I like your cunt,” I say. “I like the way it tastes, the way it smells, the way it feels.

Her eyes are wide, lips parted.

“You’re…a lot,” she says.

“Am I too much?” I ask.

She shakes her head. A smile, faint and soft, appears. “No. I think I like it.”

I take her hand. She looks down and slowly curls her fingers through mine.

When we’re done eating, she gets up to clear off the table. I get up to help, but she puts a hand on my chest and pushes me firmly into the seat. Her eyes flash. It takes a second to realize she’s playing with me a little. I curl my forearm around her waist, pulling her against my side.

“Are you happier than you were?” I ask.

She nods, biting her lip.

“You can talk, sweetheart,” I say gently.

“I know,” she says.

“But you don’t have to. I hear what you mean to say, even when you don’t talk.”

Her smile is so brilliant, all I can do is stare. I love this girl. She’s not ready to hear it, but I would marry her tomorrow. I pick up her hand. Absently, I run my touch over her ring finger, wondering how soon is too soon for me to tell her I want to make this forever.

Maybe I should hold off until I figure out where I stand with her family and my land. It’s been far too quiet since I took her from Aiden. I know men like him; he won’t take this lying down.

He’s going to hit back, and when he does, I have to take that hit and come back swinging.

Nobody will ever threaten her again.

It makes my chest ache to think about everything she’s been through. She’s so starved for love, and that’s all Aiden fucking Hatfield’s fault. Next chance I get, I’m going to beat him into a bloody pulp for what he’s done, for what he’s planning to do.

He shouldn’t have fucked around with me or my woman. Fuck what my lawyer has to say about it. He can’t get to me until the snow’s melted and I don’t have to answer his calls.

I’m about to be Aiden’s worst nightmare.

“Deacon?”

I blink, her face coming into focus. “I thought you were supposed to call me daddy, sweetheart,” I say.

“Daddy, then,” she says, her drawl husky.

She’s looking at me, like she’s expecting me to say something.

“Are you going to be working all day?” she asks.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I run a ranch. Wish I could be with you, though.”

A crease appears between her brows. I cup her face, stroking her cheek with my thumb. It travels down, running back and forth over her soft, full lower lip. Arousal thrums in my groin.

“You sure you’re alright after last night?” I ask.

She blushes and nods. “Yes, it was intense. But I liked it. A lot.”

“You’re not a whore,” I say abruptly. “You know that, right?”

“I’m not?” Her eyes are slightly unfocused.

“No, you’re my whore,” I say, reaching out to cup the back of her head. “Daddy’s whore—it’s a good thing, sweetheart. And it’s different.”

She swallows, eyes glittering. I take a moment to pull her into my arms, kissing her the way I did the first time we made out in the truck—slow, letting her know how badly I want every part of her. When we break apart, she’s panting, some of the glassiness gone from her eyes.

“I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

I leave her there, breathless. I think I got my point across.