Page 67 of Deacon

“Don’t you close up soon?” he says.

“In a few minutes,” I say.

He glances over the empty room. “Can’t you close up early?”

I lean over the counter, looking up at him through my lashes. The part of me that tells me not to get involved with him has been quiet lately. Or I’m ignoring it on purpose.

Truthfully, I’m horny for him. He did something to my brain when he ate me out in the blacksmith shop. It hasn’t been the same since.

It keeps me awake, my hand tucked between my thighs, trying to rub out the same feeling and failing. Deep down, it gets me a little pissed that it’s this man who pulled it out of me.

“What are you asking?” I say.

He bends in, kissing me briefly. “Lock up the shop, sweetheart. I want to fuck you before I head home.”

My brows shoot to my hairline. “You really know how to romance me.”

The corner of his mouth jerks up.

“I’m not trying to romance you,” he says. “I’m trying to fuck you up against the wall in the back alley so I don’t have to jerk off too many times before I can fall asleep.”

My jaw is on the floor.

“Is that how you get all your women?” I ask.

He leans in and gives me those big, dark puppy eyes. “I don’t have women, sweetheart. I just got you.”

That goes right down my spine like warm water. If I hadn’t spent the whole week thinking about him and all the dirty things he’s done to me, I would know better. I would, and I’d say no, I’m not letting him have a quickie in an alley with me.

I forget that I should know better.

I take the key from under the counter and lock the front door and pull the shades. He sets his coffee down, watching me as I turn off the sign and walk right by him to the back door. Then, he snaps into action and follows me into the narrow alleyway.

It’s colder than it was this morning. I wrap my arms around myself.

“Someone will see,” I whisper.

He takes my hand, pulling me to the dead end by the big air conditioning unit that comes to the middle of my thigh. His jaw is hard. There’s a visible pulse in the vein in his neck.

“Nobody’s walking down here at this time,” he says.

“What happens if they see us?”

He shrugs. “They get a show, I guess, but they won’t see you. Turn around, put your hands on the wall.”

This is the riskiest thing I’ve ever done. There’s a rushing in my ears as I turn and spread my palms on the brick wall. It’s a little dirty, smudged with soot, and cold. There are leaves gathered on the concrete at our feet. I glance down, distracted, as he moves up behind me.

His mouth touches my neck, heat on cold skin.

“God,” I whisper, my body coming alive.

My hair is loose today. He buries a hand in it and fists it at the roots, holding me still. I close my eyes, focusing on his other hand dragging down my hip and pushing my skirt up over my ass. He gives me a little spank that stings deliciously.

“So pretty,” he murmurs.

I open my eyes as he tugs down my tights and panties. The brick wavers in front of me, and cold air stings my bare skin. His belt clinks before he spits in his hand and dips it between my legs.

“That’s a little bit wet, sweetheart,” he says.

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