Only Witness, The (5 page)

              “Good?” His lips were against her ear as he pushed deeper into her.

              “Fuck yes, yes.” Vera's hands dug into his arms. “Don't stop,” she pleaded as her head rolled back. It was an effort to even keep her eyes open so she could see him because the pleasure that radiated through every inch of her was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. It might have been his size, he was larger and thicker than anyone she'd been with before, she felt full of him as if she was going to burst, but then she realized that it was the force of the orgasm building up inside of her.

              Vera's body had taken on life on its own. Her hips moved against him even as every muscle in her body clenched. “Oh!” She wasn't sure what she was screaming, only aware of the pleasure rushing through her. The orgasm didn't just give her a funny feeling in her stomach like she was used to, instead she felt every sensation through her entire body. Even her toes were curled tightly when she felt Deacon slide out of her.

              The next instant she was face down on the bed, the weight of his body pressed against her. She moaned, shifted her head so that he could reach her mouth. “Up,” he patted his hand against her ass.

              “Oh!” Fresh heat pooled between Vera's legs.

              “You liked that?” He grinned at her and brought his hand down again. This blow was harder, hard enough to make her back arch. “Oh yeah, c'mon Sweetheart, on your knees.”

              “Again,” she moaned the word and forgot to be embarrassed about what she was asking him to do. What was she thinking? Was it possible for an orgasm to fry your mind? It didn't matter especially when he spanked her again, even harder than before. Vera's ass was tingling, likely turning red, and she just might have a problem sitting comfortably tomorrow, but it was a small price to pay.

              “More?” He questioned.

              “Fuck yes, please!” Vera shut her eyes and bit her lip, she gripped the comforter beneath her hands and held on tight. “Deke!”

              He responded once again with action, sliding back inside of her as he gave her what she asked for. Vera was panting, hands going numb from how tightly she had the covers in her hands. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, the scent of her arousal was thick in the air. It had never happened before, she'd never been this wet and ready during sex.

              Deacon moved against her hard and fast, he'd stopping spanking her and buried one hand in her hair. Grunts and groans escaped his throat. “Stay still,” his voice sounded strained. “Stay right there.”

              Vera held still with extreme effort. She wanted to move against him but there was something to be said for the way that he was holding her down and pounding into her. Vera felt her body flood and then she was floating on the orgasm and nothing else mattered. She heard him growl and felt her head snap back even further when he yanked her hair once more. Completely spent, she collapsed forward with him on top of her, and he continued to fuck her until she heard him let out a pleasure-filled cry that sounded more like a howl.

              For several moments they just lay there, his body on top of hers. When he moved off of her, Vera could feel the cool air of the room roll over her body. As her breathing returned to normal her mind began to work once more, and she wondered what would happen now.

              When Deacon shifted off of her and she felt his weight leave the bed, she turned. He disposed of the condom in the wastebasket next to her desk and began to redress. “That was really fucking good,” he sat down on the edge of the bed, ran his hand over her leg.

              “Agreed,” Vera found it hard to speak. Surely she hadn't expected that they would cuddle up with one another, he would spend the night and she would make breakfast in the morning, but she also hadn't expected that he'd be getting dressed while she could still feel her pussy having spasms. “Almost makes me wish I still smoked.”

              Deacon laughed and it was a good sound. “I've never got around to quitting so if you really have the urge...”

              “I haven't smoked cigarettes in years, I can't start again now.” But it was tempting, she could see herself enjoying a nicotine fix.

              “You've got lighters and ashtrays.”

              Vera was surprised he'd noticed that detail, but then again Deacon didn't look like a man who missed much. “I have guests that smoke sometimes, and I smoke a little weed now and then.”

              “Well, I can help you with that, too.” He pulled the cigarettes back out, removed a fat joint from the pack. “Here you go, Vera.”

              “Thanks,” she took the joint from him. “Let me grab my robe, I'll walk you down if you're leaving.”

              “I've got to,” Deacon replied. “I'll send someone around tomorrow to pick up the chair.”

              “I take cash, credit or personal checks.” Normally she didn't take checks but she couldn't imagine one of his to bounce.

              “He'll have cash with him,” Deacon rose to his feet. “I got to piss and then I'm out of here.”

              It wasn't romantic, but this wasn't supposed to be romance. One of the first things he'd said to her was that he was making no promises, Vera reminded herself that she'd accepted that and had even been glad for it. The fact that it was the best sex of her life didn't mean that it had been the best sex of his, and she shouldn't expect that to change anything.

Chapter FIVE

              Deacon pulled his bike up in front of the warehouse, took a moment just to take it in. The building was large, could hold their bikes in case of seriously bad weather, and was sturdy enough for them to hole up and protect if it ever came down to that. So far they'd been lucky, they hadn't had a serious beef within town limits in years, and he wanted to keep it that way. It was smart not to shit where you ate.

              “DEKE!” He looked over as his right-hand man, Master, called out as he walked in the door. “Where you been, Brother?” Master was as skinny as he was tall, and his head as bald as a baby's ass. He was also borderline insane, and one of the most loyal bastards that Deacon had ever known. He'd known him almost his entire life; they'd met in fifth grade.

              “Out,” he replied. The answer would make Master assume he was with a woman, but his friend knew better than to ask questions if he didn't offer details. He wasn't one to boast about conquests. It was a surprise to him that he wanted to share even less than normal about Vera. It wasn't that he was ashamed, it was... Hell, he didn't know what it was. “What's going on here?”

              “Got the bitches bringing pizza,” Master replied. “Other than that, ain't shit going on. Just a bunch of us hanging out. It's quiet.”

              Quiet was good. Deacon had the feeling that it wasn't going to last very long. “I need a word with everyone.” Of course, everyone didn't mean everyone. As soon as he made the announcement, the guys who liked to hang around and the women who hadn't gone on the pizza run started to make their way to the door. They knew the routine; they'd wait outside until business was done and then someone would get them.

              He waited until the room was clear of everyone except the patched members of The Vikings. Everyone was there, even Bug, who'd been spending a lot of nights at home, since his wife was just about ready to have their firstborn. “I'm going to make this quick, don't want to keep Double from his first love.”

              The guys chuckled, Double's love of food was well known, and the reason he'd gotten his name, because whether it was a drink or a meal he'd always ask for twice as much as anyone else. “I just had a burger, I'm good,” the large man called out with a smirk on his face.

              “For like the next twenty minutes, and then he'll be starving again,” Houdini, named such because of his ability to get out of any situation, as well as the fact that he'd never met anything with a key that he couldn't open, shouted from the back of the room.

              “Give him some credit, it'll be at least half an hour,” Deacon's comment caused another round of laughter. “Alright, seriously guys, there's some stuff that we need to talk about.”

              “Go ahead, Prez.” Jake was always the most serious of the group; he watched and waited for an answer with a curious expression on his face.

              “Got a visitor at the office today. Piper's back in town.” He paused to let them mumble amongst themselves for a minute. It had been three years since she'd taken off. None of them, himself included, had ever really seen her coming back to Center City.

              “She alright?” Fire questioned, to Deacon's surprise. The man normally didn't give a damn about the well being of anyone not wearing a Viking patch on their back. Out of all the guys, Fire kept to himself the most. Deacon couldn't remember the last time he'd asked if someone was alright.

              “Didn't talk to her long, but she seems okay.” Deacon wondered if she was, if she could be. From what he'd observed, she was colder than she'd been before she left, but that was to be expected after what she had lost. “It turns out that The Old Man asked her to come back.”

              There was a moment of silence after that. Deacon let it last, because it was rare to see this group without anything to say. The opinions on The Old Man varied, depending on who you asked, but the bottom line was none of them really liked or trusted him, but like Deacon there were some who had no choice but to give him respect and loyalty.

              “The Old Man?” Whiskey was the oldest member of the group, had been around from the start, when The Vikings were just a dream of three men. Now he was the only original member still breathing and took that as free rein to speak his mind. “Why? What does he want from her?”

              “I don't know,” Deacon admitted. “I intend on finding out, but what I do know is that he's up to something. Now, whatever it is we keep on, business as usual. This club is its own entity, always has been, and that's not changing now.”

              It had been two years since Deacon took over the gavel, in those two years it had been hard, almost impossible at times, to keep club business and pack business separate. The Old Man liked the idea of having an MC at his beck and call; he pushed for it. Deacon had made it plainly clear it wasn't going to happen.

              “He wants it to change,” Whiskey interjected, “I've known him since before you were a tingle in your Daddy's balls, so don't try and tell me differently.”

              “The Vikings have nothing to do with him,” Deacon said, his voice hard. “Like I said, that doesn't change. It never changes.”

              “Might come down to a challenge, then,” Whiskey lifted the glass in front of him. “You better be damn sure that you're ready if it comes to that; if you fail, blood is going to flow in the streets of Center City, and it'll be on you.” The now gaunt man drank deeply from the glass in his hand, set it down on the table carefully.

              “If it comes down to it, I'll be ready. Trust me on that.” Deacon knew that the meeting had gone as far as it should. “Alright, that's enough of that. Where the hell is that pizza?”

<#<#>#>#>#

              “You did what?” Gina Sanchez raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at Vera over her cup of coffee. “You're sitting there, with a straight face, telling me that you slept with Deacon Hawke?”

              Vera had done just that, but at the moment she was wishing that she'd kept her mouth shut. The information had just come pouring out as she and Gina shared their ritual of Thursday morning coffee and breakfast. “Yes, that's what I told you. For the record, that tone of voice is making me wish that I'd kept it to myself.”

              “He's a fucking thug, Vera, a gang member! No, wait he's a gang leader!” The petite brunette had given up all pretense of drinking her coffee or eating her French toast. “How could you?” Gina's face was scrunched up as if she'd smelled something bad or seen something disgusting.

              “Excuse me, have you seen him?” Vera questioned as she tried to get a lid on her temper. She adored Gina, she really did, despite her flaws, which included acting like her shit didn't stink ever since she met and married her husband.

              “Yes, I have, and he's probably got as many diseases as he does criminal charges. My God, I knew that you were in a dry spell but this is... this is just...”

              “Careful, Gina,” Vera cautioned her friend as she realized they were getting into the part of the argument where things couldn't be taken back.

              “I'm the one who should be telling you to be careful. I should be setting your bedding on fire and driving you out of town to a clinic.” Gina tossed her shiny black hair over her shoulder. “We're not in our twenties anymore, Vera. Sleeping around with bad boys isn't cute.

              “I think that I'm done with my coffee,” Vera rose to her feet. “I've got a lot of work to do.”

              “You should be thinking about finding a guy and settling down, not acting like a bitch in heat.”

              Vera's head snapped towards her friend—no, scratch that, soon to be former friend—and if looks could kill she hoped that Gina would just fall to the ground clutching her throat. “Bitch in heat?” Her voice was shrill to her own ears. “First of all, bitches who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, because before you married Robert you were spreading them for anyone with enough cash for dinner and drinks.”

              “Like I said, things were different when we were younger. We're not young anymore, Vera. And let's be honest, we know better now. We know that it's time to find a guy and make it work. Deacon Hawke isn't that guy, especially not for you.”

              “You should leave, Gina.”

              “No, this needs to be said. You need to take stock on your life! You're thirty-five. It's time to be an adult. Look at you, you're living over a secondhand store in a studio apartment. You had your own home. I can't imagine having to give up your home to live here. That has to bother you.”