The Man Who Has No Love (Soulless 3)

Deacon didn’t correct her assumption.

“Where is she moving?” Margo asked. “Manhattan? Brooklyn?”

“In my building, actually.” Deacon couldn’t hide his irritation when he shared that piece of information. Until he moved, he would have to deal with her. He would see her in the elevator, sometimes in the lobby, and knowing her, she would show up unannounced on his doorstep for midnight drop-ins.

“What?” Margo blurted. “That can’t be right, because when I wanted to live there, the answer was no.”

“A unit just opened up,” I said.

“And the waitlist?” she asked.

I shrugged. “We were able to work something out.”

She glared at Deacon before she smiled. “I’m kidding, baby. I really like my apartment, and Lily is wonderful. I never have to worry about anything. Just take my private car out shopping. It’s quite the life. But Valerie living in the same building? I think we need some boundaries.”

“It was conditional,” I said for Deacon. “She wouldn’t move unless we got her a unit in the building.”

“Ohh…” She grabbed her glass and took a drink. “So, this wasn’t about Derek at all?”

Deacon shook his head.

“Then she’s still a bitch,” Margo said. “A big bitch.”

“Mom.” Even though Deacon hated her more than anyone, he still defended her because she was the mother of his son.

“Oh, come on,” Margo said. “You know it’s true.”

Tess brought the desserts and practically threw them down on the table before she walked away.

Margo watched her go, and then she turned to me. “Maybe not as much of a bitch as that one…”

Deacon drove me back to my apartment. When the driver dropped us off, he told him, “I’ll walk home.” He gave him a tip and then escorted me inside.

I set my purse on the table in the entryway then slipped off my heels because they killed my feet. They were gorgeous and worth an entire paycheck, so I’d suffer through them every day just to get compliments. And they made my ass look amazing.

Deacon stood there, his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

I turned to him, knowing he had something to say judging by his energy.

He stared at me for a while, standing straight, his body strong and sexy. Whether he was angry, happy, or nothing at all, he was so sexy all the time. I wasn’t sure how anyone could work with him and not be distracted all the time. “I told you she’d like you.”

“Yes, it went better than I thought it would.”

“Your expectation was unfounded in the first place.” He sat on the couch and slipped off his dress shoes and socks.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you actually upset with me about it?”

With his arms on his thighs and his head bowed, he took a pause. “I just want you to see you the way I see you.” He got to his feet. “That’s all.”

“Well, if I saw myself the way you see me, I’d never leave the bedroom.”

A slow smile crept onto his features. “I’d love to see that.”

I stepped closer to his body and rose on my tiptoes to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. “Alright, I apologize for being dramatic.”

His hand cupped the back of my head. “I want something better than an apology.”

With my eyes on his, I undid every button of his collared shirt, getting it open until his warm chest was against the backs of my knuckles. I moved to his slacks and loosened them too, pushing them over his narrow hips and tight ass so his cock could come free. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

“Yes.” He pulled my lips into his and kissed me, giving me soft strokes of his lips, a gentle touch of his tongue, before he pulled away and lowered himself to the couch, his knees planted apart, his slacks around his ankles. With his arms spread across the back of the couch and his dick against his stomach, he looked like the king of my apartment, my building, the whole fucking street. “On your knees.”

I loved this side of him, the bossy side of him that said exactly what he wanted. It wasn’t in the dickish way it used to be. Or maybe it was the same, but I actually wanted to do what he said now.

I removed my dress and my bra, so I only stood in my black thong. Then I lowered to my knees on the floor, in between his knees, and scooted close until my tits were next to his balls. My hands started at his knees and slowly moved up his muscular thighs, my nipples hard and my tits firm.

His eyes were on me the entire time, arousal in his gaze as if he didn’t just view me as the woman he cared about, but the woman he’d pick up in a bar and fuck like a maniac. I was the object of his fantasy, the woman he wanted in his bed every night. I was the thing that popped into his head every time he got hard, and I was the thing that made his dick get hard in the first place. His deep voice filled the silence of my apartment. “Show me how sorry you are.”