35 comments/ 15998 views/ 55 favorites Memory Ch. 02 By: Gigi_Rose Comments and feedback are welcome. Thank you to everyone who commented and offered advice on Ch. 1 it all helps me grow as a writer. (-: * In the light of a new day, nine times out of ten, things are just as horrible as they had been the day before. Deacon, having rolled out of bed at an abnormally late nine am, discovered that that statement was very true. He was still divorced, he still felt like a failure and, since the departure of his parents due to his "successful" mating with Sarah he was still very much alone. He missed them but he wouldn't call on them to hold his hand, they were too busy RVing around the country and enjoying their retirement. They deserved it and while he spoke with them almost every day, he had made it abundantly clear that they didn't need to drop everything just because his marriage had failed. If he was going to continue as pack alpha he was going to have to learn to deal. As he headed toward the kitchen, this time he barely noticed all the portraits that still hung in the hallway some covered with various sheets. Sarah had loved portraits, both of herself and of them together. Initially he had believed that it was because she had so desperately wanted to record every moment that they spent together. Now he knew that that was stupid, she was simply vain and there was nothing more to it. Just before he entered the kitchen he noticed that the last portrait on the right was partially uncovered and for a moment he stopped and stared. It was of them just before they got married, they looked happy and he could see, shining in his own eyes, the blind adoration that would one day be his undoing. He still couldn't look at her, maybe he was afraid of what he would see. After returning the cover he was more desperate than ever for his morning boost of caffeine. "Well look who decided to join the land of the living!" Owen of course was already there gorging himself on the tasty delights his personal chef had to offer. "I do have to let you know bro that you need your coffee stat, after such a great midnight run you still look like shit. How is that even possible??" Deacon didn't even bother to respond; he just lifted an eyebrow and downed his first taste of Almo's sweet sweet coffee. Owen's mention of last night did bring to mind something that he had wanted to discuss though about the night before. "Did you notice the lights coming from that old Rayne shack at the edge of town last night? I know the ladies from the church had been helping out the old coot that lived there, but I doubt any of them would be snooping around there in the dark that late at night. I even caught a whiff, seemed familiar, sweet somehow, but can't place the scent. Know anything about it?" Having settled down to have breakfast Deacon waited for his beta's response. He usually was up to date with any local activities Deacon had missed, it was after all his job, but this time around Owen seemed to be taking an eternity to come up with any answers. "Can't say that I have boss, after the old man died nobody came around to claim a thing... not that you would expect that anyone would." He left the rest of it unsaid because they both had a pretty good idea of why they wouldn't. Old man Charles had been an old evil drunk and while the kind hearted ladies of the church had reached out to help him, it hadn't changed or taken away from the fact of who he was. It still amazed people that he had even had a family once, a wife and even a little girl. "Well get on it, you know we can't afford to have strangers just roaming about." Owen nodded and returned his attention to his meal. They ate in a companionable silence for a while each occupied with his own thoughts until Almo came in bearing the gift of the morning mail. "Good morning boys!!" Almo was not only an amazing chef/ personal assistant/ whatever else he got paid to be, he was always amazingly outrageously happy and on days like this sometimes that wasn't always a good thing. Almo's life philosophy was simple, he was a wolf he, was gay and he was more than happy to be all that he could be. Deacon sometimes begrudged him his seemingly unending joy. "I come bearing the gift of mail and don't you worry Owen yah big freeloader," this he said with a smile, "Yours is here too." Almo got treated to an obscene gesture courtesy of Owen and he simply smiled and whistled loudly as he left the kitchen. "Where on earth did you find that guy and why on earth did you hire him?" Owen sat shaking his head and sorting through the mail. Spam, spam and more spam it seemed until he came across a particularly ominous looking package addressed to Deacon and after a brief internal debate he silently handed it to him. He accepted but quickly dropped it on the table like it had burned him. He had a bad feeling about this. Owen decided to be the one to rip the band-aide off and open the letter. Only a few paragraphs into the thick legal document Owen visibly paled and looked up at Deacon who was doing his best to keep his emotions in check despite the fact that he still had no idea what it was about but deep down he knew. "She wants the house." Her second day in town was a productive one, after a brisk walk into town and a short bus ride she had arrived at her destination, The Red Door a gentleman's club clear to the other side of town. As a kid growing up in the falls she had heard whispers about this place, had even heard her mother haranguing Charles about his frequent visits. She had of course promised herself that she would never end up working in a place like this, she had been so young and stupid then, there were worse things a girl could end up being. Stripping and being up on that stage that seemed to be her calling, she was herself there and at home. Since the Red Door had been a favorite of scum like Charles it had given her pause about the kind of establishment it was. She had worked in some rough places before but she did not feel the need to make that a habit, a smart girl wouldn't. Skye had been pleasantly surprised when she had gotten there. It hadn't seemed so bad nice, clean; relatively new surroundings had been lightly overlaid with the familiar smells of this kind of establishment. She had met the owner, Joe Scantllin, and had learned that it had been recently renovated and revamped in an effort to attract a different kind of crowd. She had then been given the usual spiel; no drugs, no hooking and no drunks on the stage, keep your hard shit to yourself and your ass out of trouble, all in all pretty standard stuff. She hadn't needed to audition since the place needed some fresh girls and her resume was quite impressive. She had gotten the sense that this wouldn't be such a bad place to work. It was clean, relatively safe and the boss didn't seem to be like some of the pervs she had worked with before. The final questions had dealt with her getting to work on time and getting back to her place afterward. She had made it quite clear that she'd get there on time and get the job done; if she needed help she'd ask. They both knew that wasn't true, she didn't seem like the type that would ask for a damn thing to Joe. So here she was again on the hot dusty road back to the shack. She had a roof over her head, all hers for the first time in ages and she was back to doing the thing she loved. She felt herself coiled in anticipation, she'd rule the night tonight and be on the hunt. She would tempt and entice and maybe she'd find a willing participant, who would be willing to accept the sweet sweet hurts that only she could inflict, as she took from them all that they had to give. It would be a good night tonight she could smell it; she almost smiled into the sun. ****** "Always for the first time Hardly do I know you by sight You return at some hour of the night to a house at an angle to my window A wholly imaginary house It is there that from one second to the next In the inviolate darkness I anticipate once more the fascinating rift occurring The one and only rift In the facade and in my heart The closer I come to you..." ~ Andre Breton Sometimes life took you to the darkest places, when you were powerless with no place to turn without hope or even the will to save yourself from despair. This place was a lonely place for Deacon to be. If he could have gotten himself rip roaring drunk he would have but his gift and his curse was that he couldn't. He had dismissed everybody from his home and switched off his cell phone and made it abundantly clear to the pack that he was to be left alone, he just wasn't fit company right now. He had spent the day pacing his home, HIS home; the one his cold hearted ex bitch was trying to take from him. It wasn't fear that had him in such a state but disbelief and rage; she could never hope to take his birthright from him. Why would she try? At around two in the evening he had gotten an answer in the form of the devil herself. She had shown up knowing that he had been all alone having kicked everyone else out, he was a lamb for the slaughter. She appeared as she always had to him, sweet and innocent, somehow without the taint of evil he knew existed within her. He tried to see past it to what was really within her, to what had caused him so much pain and grief, but he was weak and couldn't. They had fucked hard and fast and he had felt just as empty as he had before. She wanted to reconcile, the play for the house was just to get his attention or so she claimed. She had come to remind him of how good they could be together but also to warn him that she would follow through with her plans if he thought otherwise. She had even been so generous as to give him time to think about it. So after taking a bit more of his soul she had left. He showered just to get her smell off of him and then he had run, so far and so fast that he was exhausted. Still he kept on going until he ended up clear on the other side of town at the Red Door a club he had only ever visited once, but seemed tonight like a fit place to drown his sorrows. He found one of the many hidden stashes of clothes, shifted and entered his own personal hell. The place was livelier than he had expected, brighter and smelled like lust, sweat and beer. Some eager patrons were getting lap dances while others were content to either leer on from the sidelines or sit in eager anticipation for whoever would be gracing the main stage tonight. After about thirty minutes he had cleaned up his sixth beer and brushed off his hundredth offer for a lap dance. He was about ready to call it quits and ask to use their phone to call Owen for a ride home. He wasn't drunk but maybe Owen's company would put him in a better frame of mind than this crowd did. As he was about to signal the bartender the lights dimmed and he realized that the main dancer was about to come on stage. He figured he'd wait it out until after the dance; there was no way he was getting the human's attention in the sudden darkness anyway. He had expected to hear rap, techno or metal not the opening chords of... Hotel California. Glitter, glue, fake, diamonds, hard cocks and sweat. She was ready and she was queen. Tonight she would be the seductive ghost ready to lead men to their doom. She sought a mate, someone to get caught up in her world, if only for a little while. The dance was soft meant to seduce and with every twist and turn and flex suggest the fulfillment of their wildest fantasies. This was who she was, she would draw them in and she would love them the best way she knew how, she was the deceptive beauty to their carnal beasts. She took them on a sensational ride. All around her were hard cocks, lust and sweat and while the harder chords of a faster beat would get her men all revved up; the slower sensual pace that she had set would keep them all on edge eagerly anticipating every sensuous move of her flesh. She was their goddess tonight ready to pull them in and trap them in her arms. Glittering wedding rings and eager eyes, all were hers and she would weigh them, cast them aside if she found them wanting. They who so eagerly got their fill on cheap thrills were somehow held at bay and made to wait for her slow traveling gaze. Sometimes she seemed to come so close they could touch her and bask in that slow intense haze that was her dance. Deacon was just as mesmerized as the rest, breath held, as she danced. He hadn't heard her intro, too distracted with his own thoughts, but at this point how he longed to know her name. She executed perfect Icon splits, Geminis, Spinners and Angels none of which he knew the name of but all of which combined, with the slow haunting music, to add to her mystique. In his eyes she danced for him and only him nobody else was there, she was the spider to his fly. Before he knew it he was at the edge of the stage, "some dance to remember...", and caught up in her quiet storm, "some dance to forget." She had found her prize and she was ready, eager and filled with her own power. Usually it was the most desperate that caught her attention, since they were always so eager to sample her medicine. They didn't care that they had wives and lives outside of the allure of the night, and if they didn't care why should she? Many times she had been confronted by and angry or a tearful wife or girlfriend but all she could do was laugh at them, all those silly boys they could have them. She had gotten what she wanted from them, she remembered their faces and her siren call was strengthened by them. This man though seemed familiar and his heavy lidded gaze made her shiver. Her heart somehow skipped a beat and she faltered, imperceptibly of course but enough for her to be aware that this one would be different from the others. Just as the Eagles discovered that they were trapped in that world of decadence and debauchery she discovered that she had been trapped by this man. The dance became his dance as his eyes moved like fingers over her flesh. She was for the first time uncertain whether she had chosen, or had he? The last chords of the song faded with the lights dimming once again and she was left breathless. She swore she could still point him out. His eyes seem to glow on her in the dark. "Why do you dance? To remember or to forget?" the questions seemed to come to her as a whisper of thought as she left the club. She had collected her night's pay and received the "good job" from her boss; he wasn't a man of many words. There were also some of the scathing looks she got from the girls, after her performance she was once again in high demand. She had expected her mystery man to seek her out. Sometimes fans did that eagerly, and stupidly, backstage and got their asses bounced out early for their trouble, he didn't do that. She even expected a special request for a private dance but he didn't do that either. She had looked at herself in the mirror and questioned if she was losing her edge and somehow picked a looser. She knew it was his voice that she heard from the darkness. She hadn't seen him clearly yet but her mind drew together what details it could. He was tall, at least six feet to her own 5'5", with dark hair and what seemed like the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen. He was definitely her type, tall dark and handsome, she rarely indulged in that vintage though since lately her mantra seemed to have been the nastier the better. In a strip club you didn't always find the cream of the crop. "Both." She answered and held her breath when she heard his soft almost mocking laughter. "Funny, but that seems to be the same thing I came here for." She heard him move and shivered but not from fear or cold. It only took her a second to realize what it was though, anticipation. Still she wasn't used to carrying on conversations with men in the dark and didn't like how he made her feel unbalanced. She checked herself though and gathered all the sultry strength of the dancer; she suspected that she would need it. "Well then," she purred, "If you crawl on out of the darkness, maybe I can help you with that." She waited, expected him to obey. "I have no doubt that you can help me baby but I suspect that your help comes with its fair share of hurt." She stood stunned, shocked beyond a quick reply. This was her game and he wasn't playing it right. She had known he was dangerous and knew it was time to get away. It was never wise to play with snakes. "Fine," she shrugged, pretending indifference, "have it your way. Next time don't call me baby." And as she turned to make good on her escape, she felt a warm, firm hand reach out from the darkness to pull her unrelentingly up against an equally warm and firm body. "Not so fast little lady, don't run off before we get nicely acquainted." She was once again, stunned, he'd changed the endearment. In a few seconds she was breathless but upon inhaling the all-male, fresh woods scent that was this man, she was just as quickly slightly wet and panting. Some secret carnal part of her enjoyed the quiet control he exuded, that seemed to envelop and override her usual sense of confidence which typically dictated how these things ended. One thing was for certain though, she wasn't certain of anything. In the semi darkness of the club's neon lights she could see the lighter hue of his large hands, appearing to glow against her darker skin tone and couldn't help envisioning those hands making their way all over her body. Never before had she ever thought of hands as beautiful. She needed to get out of this. "I think I know all I need to." She tried to keep her voice calm so that she wouldn't give anything away. "How about you let me go now? I trust you enjoyed the show and look forward to you turning out... another time. I do aim to please." Her breath had cause to stutter again, did he just smell her? She could feel him bending and shifting closer to move his nose along the delicate line of her throat, through her hair and then pull her closer. "Now don't play coy, you know I did." And he proceeded to show her how much by pressing her against what, hands down, was the hardest cock she'd ever felt. She shivered again; he definitely wasn't a small man. "My name's Deacon Sloane by the way, what's yours?" Sometimes moments can change your life. The squeaking of a door in the middle of the day, the sound the world makes when it's silent. Sometimes these things mean more than they seem and it was the same when Skye decided to turn around. It was surprisingly easy she thought in a surreal way, he had after all been holding her so close. It only took her relaxing and exerting a slight pressure for him to release her into that pregnant silence between his question and her answer and just like that she was staring yet again into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. She would never forget them and as they stared back at her she knew that somehow they had changed. Deacon Sloane was still handsome; God was he handsome, tall broad and muscular with the same dark hair, a little longer by now, and those eyes. He had filled out and really come into his own, if he was anybody else she'd be on him in a second but somewhere between the shock of actually seeing him again and the surprise that he would actually want her she was frozen. "Well honey I'm waiting for an answer, I doubt you want me calling you honey all night." And he smiled that wonderfully crooked smile that he had used to sway the girls at school. It was the one she'd never received but would often dream about seeing. She could've stayed like that, lost in his smile but a cool wind blew in and she shivered because she had lost his heat. It was just better to get it over with. "Well hell I'm offended," she purred and tried for that air of sensual indifference that she relied on so often. "I thought at least you would recognize the name, I never changed it, Skye Rayne ring a bell?" and she forced a smile. Memory Ch. 02 It was his turn to be speechless. Skye Rayne was not a name that he had heard in years and the woman that stood in front of him was not the one that he remembered. In truth the last time he had seen her was in the woods that day, dirty and bloodstained. He had heard whispers about what happened later; there was something to be said about wolf hearing. The father had been abusive to the point where the state had had to step in. Beatings and beer had apparently been the norm in that house and God knows what else. He knew though, they both did. In all the years he had known her he had never really looked at her. She was just the dirty black kid to him, he had felt sorry and kind of pitied her but she was human and not his problem. She'd changed filled out and gotten taller. She only came up to his chest though, barely grazing his shoulders. She had her hair in some kind of curly bob thing tonight that he had noticed her tossing around as she danced on stage. It suited her. And she'd developed quite the body too, nice tits and ass all toned and tight easily that magic 35C-24-35. If he had been a shallow man he would have claimed to be in love just based on the physical, but he wasn't and there was more to her that drew him maybe it was all that sadness and pain he could see in her. So many questions and doubtless many answers but the best way it seemed tonight to move forward was slowly, simply because he would find time to sort out the rest. "Well now that you mention it, it does. Want a ride home?" The offer surprised her somewhat since only moments before he was all heat and male now he seemed to be shifting gears. There was still heat in his eyes along with something else but it was the heat she focused on since it was that that she could handle. "Oh you can give me a ride all right and I promise you we'll both enjoy it." He motioned for her to follow him to the lone black Escalade in the parking lot, surprise surprise. Who would have thought that the high and mighty Deacon Sloane got all down and dirty with strippers? As he opened the door for her and ushered her inside Skye gathered herself. She wouldn't allow him to be any different she decided he was just a man like any other. In fact she could think of one reason to make him hurt just like the others, he knew her secret and had the misfortune of sharing a moment with her that had haunted her forever. He had seen the abject terror and misfortune of a child now he would know the rage and pain of the woman. They drove along in silence, each consumed by their own thoughts and she could somehow sense that he had decided to treat her with kid gloves. Maybe he thought that he was still that frightened kid in the woods and maybe she was but that moment had long passed and the only language she wanted to speak was that of lust. She'd always wanted him in that sweet innocent fantastic way that a young girl falls in love. But she wasn't that person she was a stripper he'd picked up in the wee hours of the morning not some cute young girl with stars in her eyes. In fact when she looked at him in profile she could somehow see in him that loss of boyish charm and innocence. He wasn't the same person she had known (had she known him really?) or the same person that she had fantasized that he would one day be. He was all man hardened and a bit vulnerable the lines on his face told her that he had been hurt by some woman, somewhere and it was this soft vulnerable underbelly that she would exploit. She determined that all she wanted from him was sex, a night or two of the hard and fast. She was a realist and knew that she wasn't the kind of girl that he could introduce to his parents or take to hang out with his friends. She was a stripper that had seen her fair share of traffic and had a whole world of hurt and bitterness in her heart and for a minute there she felt sad as she looked at herself. Still he had the remedy for her poison and she wouldn't allow herself to think of all the reasons why she shouldn't sleep with him and just walk away but instead she would think of all the reasons why she should. She doubted that he was the kind of man that she could have her way with completely, he wasn't anything like the others, but for one shining moment she would have him, her own private fantasy and no one would have to know. She doubted he'd go around talking but she'd know and she'd smile because for one moment she would have caught the dream. She gathered the strength of the dancer, it was all she had since she knew nothing different, and turned to him. "I need to pee pull over." He seemed startled at first, so lost in his own thoughts. They were on that lonely stretch of road a few miles out from her house. "We're almost there, are you sure you don't want to wait?" he asked, glancing from her to the road and back again. "I'm sure." He put his turn signal on and pulled to the side and put it in park. He watched as she undid her belt and then she surprised him by straddling him. They seemed suspended for a minute and he didn't know what to do. The tension between them could be cut with a knife. Slowly as if she was afraid that she would somehow scare him she grabbed his right hand and slowly, gently spread his fingers out, kissing each one in the process. The simple gesture sent shivers down his spine and blood pooling in his dick. He was speechless and completely enthralled by what she was doing to him. She took the time to suck on his right index finger and then proceeded to lead that hand under her shirt, slowly sensuously, all the while looking deeply into his eyes allowing him to see what every touch every sensation caused her to feel. So he was pushing the loose cups of her bra away, he hadn't even seen her unhook it, and cupping the warm firm weight of her right breast. She used that wet finger to play with her nipple all the while he could hear her breathing increase and feel his own heart rate rev up. Soon she took his left hand into her own and brought it into play. Bringing it up slowly along her outer thighs and then inward to her pussy. She was wearing some thin lacy confection over the wet heat he could already feel building there. It didn't take much nudging to have him push it quickly to the side and begin to play with her clit and tease the outer rim of her moist hole. He watched her in the half-darkness as he played, watched her throw her head back and undulate as a played with her clit she didn't know how good she looked to him in that moment, she was sensually honest and free. His hand was soaked and he could smell her lust and feel her tension coiling in her thighs as it reflected his own. Watching her wasn't enough, he needed to fill and consume. She gasped as suddenly the hand that had at one point been cradling her breast moved to grip and pull on her hair, not painfully but enough to make her know she had lost it, he was now in control. Deacon used his other hand to tear at the shirt she was wearing beneath her light jacket to get at her breasts. Soon they were free and with a slight groan she felt her nipples hardening in the cool night air wafting through the windows. His hand roughly returned to her pussy and using a finger inside her and her hair for leverage he lifted her to feast at her tits. He suckled and bit slightly until her nipples were so sensitive she groaned. All the while keeping her suspended between that finger and the hair he had in his grip. It was deliciously uncomfortable and she was soaked. She knew in the morning there might be marks all over her breasts but she didn't care, she wanted and needed him this way. He finger fucked her hard, soon adding another finger and withdrawing every so often to taste her from his fingers, and then he'd make her watch head bent forward as he sucked them clean. She whimpered and wasn't sure she could handle it, she was on sensory overload. She swore she heard him growl as he pushed the tattered remains of her shirt and jacket off of her shoulders trapping her arms at her side and once more attacked her tits pinching and squeezing them as a suckled and bit. "Ride my thigh baby." He ordered as he shifted a bit to allow her to do just that. She didn't even care about what he had just called her she just wanted more. She rode him feeling decadent in the knowledge that she was soaking him and could feel his hard cock straining against his jeans. She heard another growl and then the door opened. He lifted her up; hands still trapped at her side and took her around to deposit her against the hood of the car. He lifted her up just enough that she was suspended legs spread over his shoulders and he could have at her pussy. Damn was he strong. He ripped her panties off and pocketed them before latching on to her clit. All she could do was feel and scream into the darkness that seemed to surround them on all sides. This wasn't her first rodeo but even she had to acknowledge that this was different. He ate her like she was his favorite candy paying special attention to her clit and soon she could feel him stretching her first with one finger and then another scissoring in and out of her moist center. It was too much and she wanted him so bad. It was a lifetime of secret longing and fantasies becoming reality and as it turned out it was like nothing she expected. There was no switching off no disconnect that allowed her to experience without feeling a damn thing. She was here very much present and experiencing everything, it made her scream even louder. He brought her close, so close to the edge and then suddenly stopped, she wanted to hit him but with her hands still trapped she couldn't do a damn thing. She heard him rustling around and then the hiss of his zipper as his Jeans fell away like a sigh. Before she knew it he was in her face having dragged her down the hood of the car to position her for his entry. She had no choice but to look into his eyes and what she saw there made her shiver. Swirling heat and passion but the scariest part was that beneath it all she somehow saw herself as she was in the moment with her own swirling heat, passion and honest emotion. It was damn scary and she closed her eyes to all of it. "Open them, open your eyes when you're fucking me." She was stunned that he had growled it at her but still she hesitated to respond until her leaned over bit her neck and entered her. Her eyes flew open and her breath left her in a gasp that was both pleasure and pain because he was larger than she had stopped to consider. He held her like that for a moment, both stunned and reeling from how right this all felt. The urgency and the craziness of it, no romance and soft kisses instead a dark road and the hood of a car but none of that mattered since this was the honest expression it seemed of unbridled passion. Not something crafted by either of them to provide with momentary titillation. He tore at the remnants of her clothing freeing her arms enough that she could brace herself on his shoulders for the additional support that she needed. She was now facing him stunned and a little bit scared by what he was doing to her and making her feel. She saw his mouth quirk up in an arrogant smile as he looked at her; she was like a deer caught in his headlights. He removed her arms from his shoulders to pin them to the car with his own. He didn't want her balanced. He liked her just where he had her. He heard her gasp and felt her shiver when he leaned over to lick the spot where he had bit her and then he proceeded to give her the pounding of her life. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut every so often trying to escape to that place she normally went during sex but the rat bastard wouldn't let her. He would either change the tempo of his thrusts or lean over and bite at her, not hard enough to break skin but enough to ensure that she was looking at him on top of her. She was breathless and hoarse from screaming and she could swear that he was growling and snarling. Soon she knew that they were both close to the edge, they were both tense and straining toward completion and he still wouldn't let her escape him to that place in her head. "Tell me you want it baby, that you want a piece of me inside of you." He was looking right at her as he said it and somehow she knew that he was asking her to make a choice, one with far more implications and consequences than just them fucking. She was on the edge of the cliff and dammit already falling. "Yes!" And then he hit the sweetest spot in her pussy. She could feel him cumming hear his harsh breathing as his warm cum seemed to fill her up to overflowing. The moment was electric and they were both spent. She suddenly was brought fully into the moment staring into his eyes as the both got lost together. He seemed a little bemused by what had just happened but she was downright scared. Then he did the unthinkable and just kissed her, softly sweetly on the lips. It was clean and not filled with judgment or lust but something else that she had no idea what it was but it felt good and scared the shit out of her. It's amazing the things that fear would motivate you to do. For instance it would give you the strength and presence of mind to run from a moment that can only be described as earth shattering. She felt him loose almost boneless from his release and knew he didn't have the strength to stop her. For a second though she took the time to bask in the closeness and peace of the moment it was unlike anything that she had ever experienced and it hardened her resolve to get away. She pushed against him and shivered as his now flaccid cock glided smoothly out of her well used pussy. And then in a mad dash she retrieved her shirt and jacket to hastily cover up. She didn't know how long it took him to recover and really didn't want to find out. She ran to the truck got her bag and took one final mute look at him before scampering off into the darkness in the direction of her house. He wasn't good for her health what should have been simple turned out to be so much more than that. Deacon was too bemused to move and spent like he never had been before. On a good day she never would have been able to escape him but a part of him was just too shocked to fathom that she would just run away. He didn't know what the fuck just happened but it was nothing like he expected. He saw her disappear into the darkness like hell was at her heels and he inhaled taking in a mixture of both of their scents that pleased him. The other thing he got off of her was what froze him, she was scared terrified really and the man knew now wasn't a good time to give chase, the wolf though was uncaring. He calmed him down, now was not the time they should give her space. But he had her number and she wouldn't escape them. That would be his only concession to her but he wasn't about to just let her run off into the darkness without ensuring that she at least got home safely. He gathered himself and his clothing, switched off the car and took off after her it didn't take much for him to have her in his sights. She made it to her house and shakily entered not once looking back to see if she was being followed. He didn't like that. He took the time to really look at this place for the first time; to call it humble was being polite the correct word would be dump. But it was livable he presumed or she wouldn't be in there. He waited to see lights turn on and signs of life inside but when all he saw was the weak flickering of candle light it only pissed the wolf off more. The girl was out here living in the middle of nowhere by herself with no basic amenities and not a care to her own personal safety. He would see what he could do about it in the morning and he didn't once stop to question why he should care, it was just the right thing to do. He saw a curtain shift and knew that she saw him, he wanted her to, she wasn't alone anymore. He didn't know where the hell things were headed but wherever that was man and wolf where ready. He saw the curtains close and then took off in the direction of the car to head home. He took his time; windows rolled down taking in the scents of the night and knew that for the first time in forever he was strangely happy. It felt good like he had new purpose. Skye had given him something unsuspectingly, a moment of peace, and he knew that he had to find some way to thank her. He was so wrapped up in the high that he didn't even notice until it was too late the delicate blonde with pixie features and sharp green eyes at the foot of his stairs. He was too distracted to notice the sexy silk teddy but enraged expression on her face until she called out to him. "WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DEACON?!"