I wanted to kick him (though, not really). This was because none of this was the point but he was making it the point in a way that wasn’t wrong.

This was also because I’d had the conversation with my father four times when he’d come to visit, offered to switch out that sink, and I’d declined, asserting my independence (as always).

Dad would be ecstatic that old sink was gone.

Mom would be ecstatic that ugly mirror was history.

With no other way to save face, I declared, “You’re supremely annoying.”

He grinned. “Yep. That’s me.”

“Should this continue to be as awesome as it is, we trundle toward together and make those babies, if we have daughters I’m starting How to Deal with Badasses when they’re five.”

His eyes were lit but his expression was full-on tender when he returned, “We have boys, they get How to Deal with Stubborn Bitches Who Argue About Meaningless Shit starting at three.”

“Again, Deacon Deacon, women dislike being called bitches,” I shot back.

“That’ll be part of my lesson to the boys,” he volleyed.

I rolled my eyes, unable to carry on just thinking of giving him sons.

Or daughters.

Deacon tired of the conversation and re-wedged himself under the sink.

Bossy looked from Deacon to me and back to Deacon, deciding he was more fun. I knew this when she pushed herself into the vanity, getting in his way, and yapping orders at him.

I left the bathroom.

I mean, what other option was open to me?

Damn the man.

* * * * *

Deep into the night three days later, I woke when Deacon trailed his fingers between my legs.

Coming sleepily cognizant of where I was, how I was, and what was happening, I felt myself get wet and a sharp tingle assaulted me. This was because, before we went to sleep, Deacon left me tied to the bed, on my stomach, arms not out but tied together above my head to the headboard.

My legs were spread eagle. This was so he could sleep beside me and do it tangling his heavy legs with my stationary one.

You would think you couldn’t sleep that way, but after the orgasm he’d given me hours ago, I had no problem falling right into dreamland.

“Woke hard,” he whispered in my ear.

He meant hard, as in ready.

I licked my lips.

His finger whispered light at my clit and kept doing it.

I pressed my lips together to hold back my whimper.

“Gonna take me, Cassie,” he told me.

“Okay.”

“Gonna take me hard.”

“Okay,” I repeated.

“Hear me, you’re gonna take me, baby.”

I didn’t know what he meant.

But I didn’t care.

I’d take whatever he gave me and I’d proved that repeatedly, sleeping bound one of the ways I did.

“Whatever you want, honey.”

“Yeah,” he replied with approval, kissed my neck, my shoulder, then he set about doing whatever he wanted.

This included fingering my clit until I was tense, fighting my ties, whimpering, and lifting my ass to demand more. Then it included him moving over me and fucking my cunt until I moaned desperately into the pillows.

And finally it included him oiling me and himself in preparation before he fucked me up the ass, up on one forearm in the bed, hand in and curled around my breast, thumb rubbing my nipple, body mostly on mine, other hand shoved under me working my clit.

I came hard with him up my ass.

Deacon came hard up my ass.

He’d never taken me there.

I fucking loved it.

With him still inside me, he stopped teasing my nipple and just held my breast, his breath labored but evening.

“Better every day?” I whispered, my voice husky and replete.

He pressed into my ass.

“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to, baby.”

I smiled lazily.

Deacon slid out gently.

He cleaned me tied, untied me, let me work out the kinks then positioned me tucked to his side.

“You sleep okay?” he asked quietly, stroking the skin at my hip with his fingertips.

“Definitely.”

He said nothing for a moment before he asked, “You like it?”

“Yes, honey.”

“Okay, Cassie, then it sucks, but I didn’t.”

I blinked at his chest.

“It’ll happen again ’cause I liked wakin’, ready to take you bound,” he stated. “But I prefer you free to nestle into me.”

I so loved this man.

“Then we won’t do it again,” I said.

“We’ll do it, but like this. I give that to you for a while, then I fuck you, then you give me this.”

Another badass compromise.

I pressed closer. “Works for me.”

His stopped stroking my skin, slid his hand over the cheek of my ass and in the cleft, where his middle finger rested light against me.

“This okay?”

“Yes, baby,” I whispered.

“Harder and rougher or gentler and slower?”

I closed my eyes, loving the feel of Deacon giving me anything.

I opened my eyes. “Whatever you want.”

“I’m up your ass, Cassie, it has to be what you want.”

I sighed and replied, “We could try harder and rougher, but I’d also like to try gentler and slower.”

He slid his hand back to my hip, murmuring, “You got it.”

“Deacon?” I called.

“Yeah, Cassie.”

“Thanks for letting me be me.”

His body tensed and his arm squeezed.

“I, some guys would think that I…” I stopped, swallowed, and continued. “In bed and out, bossy, independent, ornery, and what I like done to me, they’d think—”

He saved me by cutting me off. “Then good you didn’t get some guy, Cassidy. Good you found me.”

He was so right.

I turned my head and kissed his chest.

He slid his hand into my hair. “You know that goes both ways.”

I turned my head back and rested my cheek to his warm skin. “Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

That got me his body tense again and his fingers in my hair pressed into my scalp.

I felt him relax before he said, ‘You know that goes both ways, too.”

I loved him. God, I loved him. And I wanted to tell him. I was aching to tell him.

I didn’t tell him.

I bossed, “Got to sleep, Deacon.”

“Only if you go there with me, Cassidy.”

I smiled at his chest.

He slid his hand out of my hair, taking his time, then wrapped his arm around me.