“Okay, baby, I’ll take your kidney.”
She glared at him then huffed out a breath. “Okay.”
“All right,” he murmured.
“All right,” she pushed out.
“I’ll also give you another kid,” he went on.
“Great,” she blew out.
“I want another girl,” he told her.
She shook her head. “You have to pass on the badass gene.”
“Ruth is totally gonna be a badass.”
That made her crack, though she hid it behind more boss. “You’re giving me a boy.”
“’Fraid you can’t boss that into being, baby. We’re just gonna have to take what we get.”
She stared at him.
Then she stated, “You’re it, Deacon. You’re the reason I breathe. You’re my husband. I was put on this earth for you. I can’t exist on this earth without you.”
He slid his thumb over her cheekbone. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. I know how much you love me, but I’m not sure you have any clue how much I love you.”
“Considering you threw a hissy fit to give me a kidney I don’t need, I think I caught on,” he replied.
“Don’t joke,” she bit out.
“I’m not,” he returned.
She studied him.
Then she lifted her hand to his at her face, curled her fingers around and turned her head to kiss his palm.
Deacon drew in a breath.
Then he let it out.
The breath in was Cassie.
And the breath out was still Cassie.
Because she’d resurrected him.
And also because she loved him just as good as she got, and from him, she got everything.
She turned to face him again but held his hand against her skin.
Even with her holding on, he stroked her cheek.
“Only you could throw a fit about giving away a kidney,” he muttered.
“Tomorrow, you’re checking the wiring of every appliance, big or small, in our house. It was the Crock-Pot that did Jack in. Since we’d both totally go back into the inferno to save the dogs, we need to trash anything that might conceivably set the house on fire.”
“That’s it,” he declared. “You are not watching that show anymore.”
And she wasn’t.
Christ.
A Crock-Pot?
“By the way,” she replied, he knew ignoring his statement—his woman lived for that show, cried every damned time, he did not get that shit. “If we have another kid, we have to get another dog.”
“Done.”
She smiled at him again.
He frowned at her.
“Where are the dogs?” he asked.
“The run. We needed alone time.”
Right.
Speaking of that.
“We got maybe half an hour for another fuck. You up for that?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes, mumbling, “He has to ask.”
He rolled her to her back, asking, “You bring any more toys with you?”
She looked at him and repeated, “He has to ask.”
Nice.
He felt his cock spring back to life.
“I got to play first, baby. You get to play this time,” he murmured, going in for a lip brush.
“You so love me,” she crowed.
“Yeah,” he said in all seriousness.
She gazed into his eyes.
Then she said, “Yeah.”
The End
A novella tying up a Loose End from the The Honey Series
featuring Diesel, Maddox and Molly from The Greatest Risk
Empty
Diesel
DIESEL DROVE HOME in his truck after beers with the boys, allowing his dick to go partially hard thinking about what waited for him there.
Molly was with her sister down in Tucson. Apparently, bridesmaid dress shopping took all weekend. Then again, the diva gene had skipped Molly entirely, but triple timed her sister Holly, and since the woman was getting married, this shit had reached extremes.
So he and Maddox should be thankful finding the perfect bridesmaid dress wasn’t taking three weeks.
This meant he was alone with his boy, Mad, from then, Friday night, to Sunday evening.
This was not an unusual circumstance, but since they’d found Molly and added her to their lives, it was rare they didn’t sleep in their huge California king with limbs tangled as their normal threesome.
Molly could go away, to be with her parents up in Flag, or her sister down in Tucson, but she wasn’t gone long, maybe a night. And if she was gone, Diesel and Maddox slept like they did before she’d come into their lives. In the same bed. Usually after a great fuck.
But not tangled.
Not even touching.
And D could go away, to visit his family in Indiana, where Maddox wasn’t welcome, but Molly was, so Molly stayed home in Phoenix with Mad, and Diesel took off on his own.
And it was just the way they rolled that they had their alone times with just one of their three. D and Molly. Molly and D. Molly and Mad. Mad and D.
But this was a long stretch of alone for him and Maddox.
It was lunacy, but D had to admit to a certain level of anxiety and that had nothing to do with the thoughts he was letting harden his cock, these centering around the activities Maddox could get up to later that night in using it.
That anxiety had to do with their play a few weeks ago with Mistress Sixx as an observer at the Bolt.
“And that’s just fuckin’ stupid,” he told his windshield as he drove.
It was.
It had been Maddox and Diesel before there was a Molly.
They’d met. They’d connected. They’d really connected. They’d done their thing together as Mad and D. They’d done it together as a team with Mistresses. They’d done their thing together as a team taking a sub. They’d moved in together in the little house they now shared with Molly. They’d agreed practically in the same breath after they’d had Molly and gone back for more, and more (and more), a lot of the time taking that going back for more out of play, that she was going to be a part of them . . . permanently.
From the beginning it had been Mad and D.
So he didn’t know what his problem was.
What he did know was what tonight would bring.
D fucked Molly, with Mad, with Maddox just watching, with Maddox in the living room watching TV, with Mad out of the house at the gym, whatever. Mad fucked Molly the same. Mad fucked Diesel the same. And D fucked Maddox the same.
So D and Maddox going at it with their woman gone was not a problem.
It was just that, in a small, three bedroom house with three people living there, it was rare you got alone space.
D didn’t really need it. He didn’t mind being alone, but he preferred company.
Molly didn’t like it. She liked her boys close.
But Molly . . . now, their woman was a talker. She could chat in the Olympics and go for gold. Her musical voice babbling in the house was one of the sweetest sounds there could be.
Diesel was also wordy. He thought something, he said it. He had a lot of thoughts. That was just him.
Maddox was not the same. He was quiet. Listened good. Didn’t talk much.
And he liked his alone times. Getting the quiet. Getting his chill on.
So much, D would often grab Mol and hit the grocery store. Take in a movie. Go somewhere and share a drink or have a meal. All so Mad could get his chill.
This meant D knew what was on for that night.
He’d show after spending a couple hours with his buds from work and Mad would be in his chill. Diesel would get there, get them both fresh beers, hang with Maddox in front of the tube, catch the last of a game, sucking them back, being quiet, letting Mad have his zone.