Crashed (Entangled Indulgence) (7 page)

Chapter Eight

“So, who are we meeting tonight?” Alex tried her best to sound bored but was nervous as hell. She hated walking into any situation blind, always had. She’d been forced to do that every time she was moved on to another foster home, new people, new everything. Now she actively avoided surprise situations wherever possible. In her experience, surprises sucked ass. Always.

“Some business associates. I would’ve rather given this one a miss, but they’re persistent.” He smirked. “They want money, so prepare yourself. What you’re about to witness may induce nausea.”

“What’s it for?”

“A charity fund-raiser. There’ll be an event as well, one I’ll be required to attend. We go through this every year. They insist I come out for drinks, so they can convince me to part with my money. I, of course, agree.” His fingers flexed around her thigh, which he hadn’t let go of since they got in the car. “Though this is the first time I’ve donated to this particular charity.”

“So who gets this money?”

A shadow moved across his face, and his jaw tightened. “This one’s for heart disease research and ensuring as many health care workers as possible get the specialty training they need. Specifically, emergency care providers.”

He rattled it off like he was reading from a brochure, but she saw the emotion in his face, the change in his posture. Without analyzing her actions, she placed her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. Nothing she could say would ease the pain of losing his father. Jacob West had died after suffering a massive heart attack, taking him from them suddenly and denying them a chance to say good-bye. “Good cause,” she said into the silence.

“Yeah.”

God, she couldn’t bear to see him suffer this way. She would give anything to go back in time and give him the chance to heal the wounds between him and his old man. “So how many charities do you donate to, hotshot?”

His lips lifted on one side. “A couple.”

She turned to face him. “Huh, so you’re not hard and stingy after all.”

He laughed, dark and low. “Oh, I’m hard…”

She slapped her hand over his mouth and shot a look to the front seat. “I’m sure Martin could go the rest of his life not knowing how
hard
you are,” she said under her breath.

“I’m hard”—he grabbed her wrist when she tried to cover his mouth again—“on those that deserve it. Otherwise I’m a pushover.” He arched a brow, that grin getting bigger. “You have a dirty mind, Miss Franco.” And before she could pull her hand away, he placed it over the massive bulge straining the front of his very nice, very expensive trousers. “And this is what you do to me.”

Goddamn. Right now he was doing things to her as well. She squeezed the ridged flesh beneath her hand, and he sucked in a breath. “You’re such a perv.”

He barked a laugh. “My condition is completely your fault.” He pulled her hand away and held it tight in his. “Now stop trying to seduce me.”

She snorted. “I’m doing no such thing. You kind of remind me of that creepy kid at high school… What was his name again? Robert? Roger? Roger Edgar. That’s it. He spent all his time darting around corners, hiding the tent pole in his pants. Get some self-control, dude.”

He released her hand. “Creepy? Roger freaking Edgar?”

This was fun. She was actually enjoying herself. She shrugged. “You’re the one sitting there with a boner. You’ll terrify your charity guys, walking in with that thing pointing at them.” The look on his face was priceless, and unable to rein it in, she laughed her ass off. When she finally got herself somewhat together, she glanced over at him, and the remaining chuckles died a sudden death. The heat aimed her way should have turned her to ash.

He slipped his hand around the back of her neck and leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You can deny it all you like, but I know you’re wet right now, and if we were on our own, I’d pull the car over and fuck you with my fingers until I was covered in you. I’d make you scream my name until you were clenching helplessly around me, begging me to slide my cock inside you.”

She was close to begging now. “Deacon…” she started.

“So, how was your day?” He sat back in his seat, like he hadn’t just set her underwear on fire with those whispered words. “Have the restoration jobs come in?”

Shit.
If he could turn it off just like that, no way was she giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to her. She did her best to appear unaffected and smirked. “Worried? Afraid we might actually prove you wrong?”

He looked down at her, gaze so intense she shivered. “I know you don’t believe this, but I don’t want you to fail.”

Her stomach flipped, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. “Yeah, right,” she choked out.

He chuckled. “Stubborn.”

She lightly punched him on the arm. “You love it.”

Those extraordinary green eyes darkened. “You’re right. I do.”

Her mouth went dry, and she forced a careless laugh even though the blood was pumping through her veins fast enough to make her light-headed. The car slowed, then pulled to a stop. Thank God. “Oh, look, we’re here.”

“So we are,” he said, humor in his voice.

They climbed out, and Deacon rested his hand on the small of her back, steering her into Jaspers. She’d always wondered what it looked like inside the exclusive members-only club. The lighting was soft, and a guy played piano in the corner. The walls were dark wood, as were the tables and chairs. There were several deep red couches placed around the room, and the waitresses wore flapper-style dresses. The whole ambience was ultra-cool, totally chic and sophisticated, but somehow warm and welcoming.

“Shit,” Deacon said under his breath.

“What?” She looked up at him, and her stomach dropped at what she saw.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t know they were bringing their wives.”

Great.

His hand settled on her waist as he led her toward a table off to the far side. Both the men sitting there looked older than Deke; the women, she guessed, were a similar age to her. And that’s where the similarities ended. They were all hair and legs and caked-on makeup. “Jesus,” she said under her breath.

“Yeah,” Deacon agreed. “Watch Tammy, the brunette—she can be a catty bitch.”

“Awesome.”

He rubbed her back. “I’ll get it over with as quick as I can.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She pouted up at him. “You want me to simper and bat my lashes at you so you don’t feel left out?”

He laughed softly. “Don’t you dare.”

The four of them turned to watch as they neared the table, and she felt like the weird goth girl at school who’d somehow gotten a date to prom with the captain of the football team.

Deacon introduced her, and after a once-over from the men and matching pinched smiles from the women, she took the seat next to Deke. They were judging her, just like she had them. But going by the way they stared at her, the way they looked like they were sucking lemons in an effort to maintain those terrifying smiles, she knew her first impression would prove accurate. They saw the ink and immediately saw her as beneath them. White trash.

Deke got straight to business beside her. He sat stiff in his chair, his voice low and clipped, and she knew he hadn’t missed the looks she’d gotten. She kept her focus on him. It was either that or make small talk with the mean girls across from her.

“Alex, isn’t it?” Tammy said, forcing her to look over at them.

Here we go.
The cow knew damn well what her name was; Deke had only introduced her five minutes ago. Alex plastered a smile on her face, as fake as the bulging cleavage exploding from Tammy’s dress. “Yup. That’s me.”

Tammy tilted her head and flicked her hair over her shoulder in a move she no doubt practiced in the mirror. “So, how long have you known Deacon?” There was a note of triumph in her voice, and something else, like the woman had some nasty secret and she was just dying to pull that shit out of her ass and fling it across the table at Alex.

“Since I was ten. Me and Deke go way back. You?”

The woman’s eyes widened, then narrowed, lips lifting on one side in a calculated way. If Tammy’s face wasn’t frozen from a crapload of Botox, she’d no doubt have an I-just-won-the-motherfucking-lottery expression on her face. “Ah, I know you. You’re the poor unfortunate orphan girl who hung around the Wests. Yes?” She turned to her friend. “You know, the one Emily told us about.”

Emily?
What did Deke’s ex-wife have to do with this?

“Well. How nice of him to bring an old friend. He’s a great philanthropist. Never misses a chance to expand his charity work.”

Tammy’s friend giggled.

Nice.

These women knew all about her, somehow knew of her past and her connection to the Wests. Alex didn’t share that part of her life with anyone. They were obviously friends of Deke’s ex. Why would Emily waste her breath talking about her?

They were watching her like sharks circling a dying seal, waiting for an opening to take another bite. Alex grinned—it hurt to do it, but she was pretty sure she pulled it off. “Yeah, Deke’s a prince among men.”

The woman’s sharp blue eyes narrowed farther, obviously unhappy Alex hadn’t crumpled into tears or stormed from the bar. “So…” Tammy’s gaze moved over Alex’s upper arm. “You like tattoos?”

Was this bitch for real?
She felt Deacon stiffen beside her and rested her hand on his thigh, silently asking him to leave it. “No, my pimp held me down and made me get it. You?” Deacon made a choking sound but didn’t say a word.

Tammy forced a laugh. “Oh, you’re funny. And no, I don’t. I’ve always found them to be rather common.” The superiority she managed to slip into her high-pitched voice was impressive.

Alex sat back and crossed her arms under her breasts. “Body piercings?”

Tammy’s eyes widened, then she and her friend laughed. “Ah…no.”

Alex leaned into Deacon, who had turned in his seat and was openly listening now, tension rolling off him. “Deacon loves my nipple piercing. Don’t you, baby?”

To her surprise his lips twitched, and when he looked down at her, humor danced in his eyes. He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. “It’s sexy as hell,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

Poor Tammy nearly choked on her pinot gris. “See, Tammy. You should totally get one.”

Deacon actually chuckled, earning him a frosty glare. He stood then and shook hands with the men at the table, then he took hers and with a stiff nod at the ladies led her from the bar.

“Hey.” He slid his hand around her waist, fingers digging into her flesh in a possessive way that felt really good. “I’m sorry about that. If I’d known Tammy would be here, I wouldn’t have made you come. She’s never come to these dinners before.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “She’s actually a friend of Emily’s.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

He chuckled. “You handled yourself amazingly back there.”

She knew how important this particular charity was and was just glad she hadn’t messed things up for him. “Hey, it’s not like I’ll see any of them ever again, right? So no skin off my nose.”

His smile slipped. “No. I guess you’re right.”

They climbed into the waiting car, and his hand moved up her spine and slid into her hair before he pressed a kiss to her throat. “Let’s go home. I’ve been desperate to get you out of that dress since you put it on.” He brushed his thumb over her nipple, teasing the piercing. “And all that talk back there has made me desperate for a taste of those pert little nipples. I’d like to tug on that sexy bar and make you scream out my name.”

She kind of wanted that, too. “Sounds good to me.”

Chapter Nine

The dress Deke had brought her to wear for drinks with Tammy the super bitch really was gorgeous, but it wasn’t her. It looked a heck of a lot better crumpled on Deacon’s pale gray carpet. The matching shoes were amazing, though—he had great taste in shoes—and were currently resting against his bare back.

Alex arched and gasped, then looked down her body. Deacon’s dark head didn’t look too shabby buried between her thighs, either.

“Ah…please.” She barely recognized her own voice, all husky and needy. She also didn’t beg. Ever. But it seemed Deacon’s expert tongue could get her to do almost anything. She lifted her hips, seeking more, asking for it without words.

Deacon moved quick as a flash. One minute he was between her thighs, the next he was up and on his back beside her. He did an ab curl, twisted, grabbed her around the waist, and dragged her on top of him.

“Sit on my face,” he growled.

Oh dear God.

Firm hands guided her higher, not giving her the option to refuse—like she ever would. She pressed her palms against the wall to steady herself, thighs resting on either side of his head. His hands went to her ass, holding her up a little, where he wanted her, and that tongue got back to work. She whimpered, desperate to grind down against his face, get herself off. But the sadist wouldn’t let her.

He made a deep growling sound that vibrated through her lower belly, sucking and licking her clit until she was panting and shaking, barely hanging on.

His eyes were open, locked on her, watching, taking in every whimper, every tremor. His fingers moved between the cheeks of her ass, dipping down between her drenched folds then back. He slicked her rear, those scorching green eyes on her the whole time. Massaging the tight ring of muscle, he tested her resistance and growled again when she leaned forward, telling him that she wasn’t giving him any, that she wanted it.

She shivered as delicious anticipation moved through her. Anything Deacon did to her felt good. Always.

His other hand went back to her hip, and he pulled her down on his mouth, tongue sliding inside her while he pushed that slick finger in her ass.

She cried out. “Holy shit.” The added pressure, the exquisite pleasure sent her hurtling over the edge. She came hard against his mouth, hips rolling helplessly. He sucked and licked her sensitive flesh through it without mercy, his finger doing wicked things to her the whole time, until she’d slumped forward in a boneless heap.

His strong hands moved to her waist, and he gently dragged her down his body. He rolled her to her back and tucked her into his side, staring down at her, eyes blazing. “Fuck, I love the way you taste. The way you come hard for me. Those needy sounds you make. I can’t get enough of it.”

His gaze was intense, and it kinda freaked her out. She grinned, trying to lighten things up. “Feel free to do that whenever you like.”

He chuckled darkly. “The night’s not over yet.” He slid to his side of the bed—not that she had a side. She didn’t want a damn side. It was just where he had all his crap sitting on the bedside table—and climbed out.

There was no way to miss the massive erection tenting his black boxer briefs when he stood. She bit her lip. She wanted him inside her. Oh, it was a stupid, ridiculously bad idea to have sex with him, but she wanted to, wanted
him
. She couldn’t take her eyes off his ass, or the thick slabs of muscle that bunched under the smooth skin of his back as he strode to the bathroom and shut himself in.

Nerves fluttered in her belly. He’d driven her to distraction with want over the last couple of days, made her come several times, and hadn’t asked her to return the favor. She kind of wanted to get it over and done with. All this anticipation was messing with her head. It was all she could think about. The memory of their night together still made her hot and bothered. Yeah, it was a dumb idea, but she wanted another taste all the same.

He was in there awhile, then finally the door swung open and he walked out. Her eyes dropped. No more erection. His hair looked rumpled, sticking up like he’d thrust his hand in it repeatedly.

He hadn’t…had he? No. Why would he go and jerk off when she was lying naked and—despite her protests—more than willing in his bed? He climbed back in, wrapped an arm around her waist, hauled her against his front, and threw a heavy thigh over hers.

Then did…nothing.

“Um…Deacon?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we going to sleep now?” Despite what he’d done to her, repeatedly, for some reason asking the man if he’d just rubbed one off in the bathroom felt a bit too—intimate.

“Uh-huh.” He buried his face in her hair and inhaled, then mumbled against her shoulder. “And don’t move from this bed, Alex. I mean it. If I wake up and you’ve run off into the night, I’m coming to get you and dragging you back.”

“What if I need to pee?”

Hot breath skimmed her skin as he chuckled quietly. “Wise-ass.” He tightened his arm around her waist and rested his hand on her belly. “Go to sleep, little viper.”

She’d played up to the nickname she, Rusty, and Piper had been given in their teens, but she’d never liked what it implied, never liked it when people called her by it, but when Deacon said it, she kind of did.

“But aren’t you…are we…”

“Sleep.” His voice did that growly thing he was so good at, and she started to get all hot and bothered again. Damn him.

What was he doing? Was he trying to ease her into this whole arrangement they had going on, to be nice, sensitive to her feelings? What? Did he
respect
her? God, she didn’t want that—that wasn’t what this was about. She couldn’t handle him treating her like she mattered.

“Stop it,” he said into the silence.

“What?”

He gave her another squeeze. “Thinking. I can hear you from here.”

“Yeah? What am I thinking?”

He sighed. “You want to know why I haven’t fucked you yet.”

Okay. The guy was a damn mind reader as well as a control freak and a major pain in the ass. “Maybe. Um, so why haven’t you?”

Deacon nuzzled behind her ear, his tongue darting out to tease the skin there. “We don’t need to rush this thing. And anyway I like the buildup, the anticipation.”

Bullshit.
But no way was she calling him on it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the truth. In fact, she knew she didn’t. The man who’d asked her to be his sex toy and occasional date several days ago was all about instant gratification. Deacon West didn’t take time to smell the roses. The journey was just another delay. Anticipation another obstacle in the way of reaching his final destination. He treated everything in his life like a business transaction, and, she’d found out recently, that included sex.

She didn’t want him to
respect
her, and she sure as hell didn’t want him to worry about her feelings. “Don’t be nice to me. That’s not what this is about.”

He stilled and was quiet for so long, she thought that maybe he hadn’t heard her, that he’d drifted off. But then he said, “You think I should treat you like a whore? We have a history. I care about you, whether you like it or not, whether you welcome it or not.”

She bit her lip against the unwanted emotion bombarding her, had no idea how to reply.

He didn’t say anything else after that, just lay there holding her. Like she mattered. Like he cared. Her stomach flipped, and not necessarily in a good way. The urge to get up and run was almost overwhelming, but she knew he’d do what he’d threatened and come after her this time. She couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk his sisters seeing them together.

Dammit. How would she get to sleep now?

Her mind turned to the garage, to the job she loved. The reason she was lying here with Deke in the first place. A couple weeks ago, Piper had put together a quote for a potential customer. A customer they wanted, badly. He still hadn’t made a decision, and all three of them were on tenterhooks while they waited. The guy usually took his cars to R.I.P. Classic, the biggest car restoration business in Miami. If they managed to take that job from R.I.P.—well, it could mean big things for them. Had the potential to get West Restoration’s name out there.

Which meant more work coming their way. It also meant proving Deacon wrong.

“You’re still thinking,” he mumbled into her hair, arm tightening around her waist. “Sleep, woman.”

Dammit.
Closing her eyes, she pretended to do just that. At least that way there was no chance of further conversation…

…

She woke curled in a tight ball, screaming.

Strong arms were wrapped around her, warm lips pressed against her temple. “Shh, I’m here.”

“Get the fuck off me!” The angry words burst from her throat, remnants from the nightmare still swimming in her head.

“Alex, calm down.” Deacon’s voice broke through the terror, the sadness, the pounding blood rushing though her ears. His strong arms restrained her as she fought the invisible hands trying to take her from the people she loved, his deep voice low as he whispered in an attempt to soothe and comfort.

She fought the tight feeling in the back of her throat, the sob desperate to escape, and tried to pull herself together. She didn’t want his sympathy, didn’t want to need him, to need anyone.

“You still have them.” His voice was gentle, guarded. “I wondered.”

There had been no secrets from the West family. It wasn’t like she could hide it. Deacon had been living there when she started having sleepovers with Piper and Rusty. He’d woken in the night, like the rest of the house, to her screaming bloody murder.

“I hadn’t been, not often anyway.”
Not until you forced your way back into my life.

“Have you tried—”

“Don’t. Just leave it, okay?”

He slid his hand across her shoulder to the back of her neck. “Come here.”

It felt good to be touched, better than good, and she went to him without thought, letting him comfort her despite knowing what a bad idea it was.

Going back to sleep wasn’t going to happen, so she just lay beside him and listened to his slow, steady breaths, the faint thump of his heart against her back as he curled around her.

The next thing she knew, the sun was filtering in through the window and Deacon’s warm hand was coasting down her belly to her hip.

“Morning.” His voice was sleep rough and sexy as hell.

She couldn’t believe it; she’d actually fallen back to sleep. “Hey.”

His fingers moved between her thighs, and he lifted her leg over his, opening her for him. Fingers dipping low, he started toying with her. Heating her up like no one else could.

“You’re already wet for me.”

Yeah. He only had to touch her, look at her, and her body ached for him. He circled her entrance, teased and tormented her until her breathing was choppy and she thrust her hips into his touch. Finally, he pushed two fingers inside her. His other arm came around, underneath her, and he massaged her breast, playing with her nipple, tugging gently. She could feel his cock digging into her ass; he rubbed up against her, hard and restless, urgent. She pushed back against him, telling him without words that she wanted him to put that impressive erection to good use, like now.

He didn’t. He kept up his beautiful torture. Playing her like the weak-willed instrument she was.

It took only minutes for her to become a trembling, screaming mess, coming hard around his thick, thrusting fingers.

That magnificent cock was still pressed into her back, but he didn’t roll her over and screw her into the mattress like she desperately wanted him to. He gave her a quick kiss on the neck and climbed out of bed, heading to the bathroom, where he shut himself in.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Alex climbed out of bed, legs still shaky from what he’d just done to her, and walked to the bathroom door. She gathered her courage and pushed it open.

Her breath stuck in her throat when she saw him. Legs braced apart, boxers shoved down just enough to free his massive erection. He worked himself. Fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, sliding up and down the hard length. Every muscle was bunched tight, abs rigid, thighs rock solid.

He hadn’t seen or heard her, too focused on getting off fast. Head thrown back, eyes closed, biting his bottom lip as he thrust into his fist. She didn’t have to think about it; she moved in behind him and wrapped her arms around his, covering his hand with her own. “Let me.”

He stilled, then shuddered. “Alex.”

Hand never leaving his cock, she moved around to face him. He looked almost panicked. God, she wanted him to lose control; she didn’t want this, whatever the hell this was. Leaning in, she circled one of his flat nipples with her tongue, then nipped gently. He sucked in a rough breath.

“So far this deal has been one-sided. I’ve gotten the new clothes, the orgasms, and instead of letting me get you off, you’ve hidden in the bathroom and taken care of yourself. I want to take care of you, Deacon. Let me.” She pointed at herself. “Sex slave, remember.” Squeezing his cock to stop whatever he was going to say, she took over stroking him fully. “Is this better than your own hand?”

He groaned. “Yes.”

“Thought so, but I think I can go one better.” She dropped to her knees in front of him. The desperate need in his eyes when he looked down at her made her heart skip a beat.
It’s just sex.
She kept their stares locked when she leaned in and licked the tip. Deacon bucked and reached for the wall for support.

“Yum, tasty,” she purred.

“Jesus.”

Then she took him into her mouth and sucked his beautiful cock as hard and deep as she could. She cupped his heavy balls, massaging, and he groaned, widening his stance to give her better access. He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding it back. His expression changed, eyes hot, control gone. He flexed his hips, pushing deeper into her mouth.

Yes!

“That’s it. Let me fuck that sexy mouth. Take it. Take all of me.”

This was the Deacon she wanted. This Deacon was all about getting off, about taking what he wanted. The businessman who’d blackmailed her into this whole thing in the first place. This was what it was all about. She felt the scale tip, and for the first time it was in her favor.