Caged (Mastered, #4)(62)

“I’ve had to improvise. So instead of getting head, you’re getting a hand job while you’re playing pinball. No one will think anything of the way you move your hips and ass as I’m standing in front of you, jerking you off.”

“And then what?”

“I go home. Next round is yours. The only rule is payback can’t be immediate. There is a minimum twelve-hour wait between rounds.”

“That’s not f*cking fair. I want to surprise you tonight.”

She shook her head. “That’s the second part of the fantasy for me, Deacon. I’ve never done anything like this. You need to let me be the woman who shows up unexpectedly, jacks you off, and leaves.”

“Leaves me wanting more,” he murmured.

Those beautiful brown eyes lit up. “Exactly.”

Deacon kissed her nose. “Hope you brought a paper towel.”

She stepped aside and walked backward until she was in the shadows beside a Dukes of Hazzard pinball machine. Smirking, she slid her left hand beneath her skirt and . . .


Holy f*ckballs, the woman took her panties off. Right there. In the arcade.

He just about shot his load right then.

With her panties bunched in her fist, she sauntered back over and situated herself between him and the pinball machine—her ass against his groin. She looked over her shoulder. “Unzip your jeans and pull your cock out.”

In that moment, he saw no sign of timid Molly and he knew he’d do everything under the sun to fulfill her every fantasy. Also in that moment, Deacon fell a little bit in love with her. This good girl who wanted to be bad—and wanted to take him along for the ride.

She set the power card on the glass.

Deacon whipped his cock out and had a brief flash of paranoia. What if someone saw them? What if security busted them for f*cking around? What if the dudes manning the security feed knew what they were doing and whacked off while watching them?

Made him a pervert, but the idea of someone else watching them got him harder yet.

Molly stretched her left arm up and dug her nails into the back of his neck. “Come on, pinball wizard. Time to put the balls in play.”

He loaded three games. Then he rested his palms on the glass above the flipper controls and tightened the cage he’d created around her with his arms.

Silky material wound around his cock, followed by the firm grip of her hand. She started to stroke him.

“Jesus, Molly. Feels so damn good I wanna close my eyes.”

“Watch your balls,” she whispered against his neck.

Deacon could barely see the damn pinball machine his blood was pulsing so hard in his neck and head, making his vision waver.

“Thrust your hips into my hand.”

Just that small movement kicked the sensation from pleasure in his cock to pleasure coursing throughout his entire body.

“Deacon. You are so sexy. So fierce. Every time I look at you I get butterflies in my stomach. When you kiss me? My heart races. I lose myself in how perfectly your mouth fits to mine. And when you put your hands on me, it feels right and yet it’s never enough.”

The words, so sweet, hot and earnest, arrowed straight to the heart of him. He couldn’t even speak.

She stroked him harder. “Come for me. I want you to blow in record time. I need to know my touch can do to you what yours does to me.”

And . . . he was done. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her temple as his cock pulsed in her tight fist. He bumped his hips and she pulled on his shaft until not another drop of come remained. The loud whooshing in his head muted the continual sounds of the games.

Molly faced him, kissing his neck as she cleaned up his dick. Then she whispered, “Thank you for playing along, Deacon.”

“What goes around comes around. Remember that.”

“I’m counting on it.” She stuffed her panties in her purse while he zipped and buttoned.

“Before you run off . . . I wanna see you tomorrow.”

“I’m not being coy when I ask if I can get back to you, because I might have something else going on.”

Deacon didn’t like that she’d hedged. But he played it cool. “Yeah, babe. I know you’re not messing with me.”

“How?”

“You can’t lie for shit. Those pretty eyes tell me everything I need to know.” He kissed her softly. “Hope to see you soon.”

Then he forced himself to grab his cup of tickets and walk away.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN



DEACON trained alone on Sunday, focusing on cardio and strength. He limited himself to dumbbells since he didn’t have a spotter in the weight room.

At the end of three hours, when he’d exhausted himself, he hauled out the training dummy and worked on kicks and body blows. This training aspect was his secret weapon. If he could maintain fighting form—Muay Thai or kickboxing—for forty-five minutes, after hours of endurance training, he should be able to stay on his feet for three five-minute rounds.

He was on the mat, stretching his muscles as he cooled down, when the training-room door opened and Maddox strolled in.

Great.

Maddox seemed as surprised to see him. “Hey, D.”

“Mad. What are you doing here?”

“I don’t always get my workouts in while I’m training fighters during the week, so I catch up on the weekends.” He sat on the bench across from the mat. “What’d you work on today?”