Steel isn’t the only thing that’s hard.
Maddie
Deacon was older than me, but I wanted him regardless. He had this raw edge to him, this primal aura surrounding him that made me feel wholly feminine. He was the epitome of a man…a real man. Even his profession was masculine: a blacksmith. I had no doubt he knew how to work his hands over a woman, how to use them to make her feel the soft and hard sides of him.
What I wanted was for him to be my first…my only.
Deacon
She thought I didn’t see her watching me, that I didn’t know she wanted me.
I knew, and I wanted her with a fierceness that rivaled anything else.
What Maddie didn’t know was I’d already claimed her. There was no other woman for me but her. I was a possessive bastard, territorial when it came to her. The time had finally come to make her mine. I’d show her how primal I really was, how rough I liked it, how much I wanted to make her scream my name. I’d show her how a man took care of his woman in all the ways that counted.
She’d be mine. Only mine.
Warning: You like your heroes with a touch of caveman? Look no further because Deacon has it going on. He’s all man, and then some. Hold on tight because this story packs a punch, being unbelievable in the best of ways and having instal-everything.
Maddie
Deacon was older than me, but I wanted him regardless. He had this raw edge to him, this primal aura surrounding him that made me feel wholly feminine. He was the epitome of a man…a real man. Even his profession was masculine: a blacksmith. I had no doubt he knew how to work his hands over a woman, how to use them to make her feel the soft and hard sides of him.
What I wanted was for him to be my first…my only.
Deacon
She thought I didn’t see her watching me, that I didn’t know she wanted me.
I knew, and I wanted her with a fierceness that rivaled anything else.
What Maddie didn’t know was I’d already claimed her. There was no other woman for me but her. I was a possessive bastard, territorial when it came to her. The time had finally come to make her mine. I’d show her how primal I really was, how rough I liked it, how much I wanted to make her scream my name. I’d show her how a man took care of his woman in all the ways that counted.
She’d be mine. Only mine.
Warning: You like your heroes with a touch of caveman? Look no further because Deacon has it going on. He’s all man, and then some. Hold on tight because this story packs a punch, being unbelievable in the best of ways and having instal-everything.
Maddie
I had a death grip on my bag, my palms hurting from how strongly I was holding on to the damn strap. But God, I didn’t care. The sight before me had everything else dimming in comparison.
Deacon McKnight.
The only reason I knew his name was because I was nosy as hell, asking about him, my fascination like an obsession. We’d never spoken, and to my knowledge he’d never even noticed me.
But I sure as hell have noticed him.
If ever there was a person who could be the poster boy for what a real man looked like, Deacon would be front and center.
The bay doors to his shop were open, and although it wasn’t hot out, I could see sweat covering his hard, muscular form. I swallowed. If anyone were to see me gawking at Deacon, they’d think I had some issues. I didn’t give one shit. Walking by his shop every day on my way to the community college I attended was the highlight of my damn day. The only downside was when I finally pulled myself away from the perfect male specimen that he was, I was breathless, wet, needy, and wishing I had someone to relieve the pent-up arousal that burned in me.
I had a death grip on my bag, my palms hurting from how strongly I was holding on to the damn strap. But God, I didn’t care. The sight before me had everything else dimming in comparison.
Deacon McKnight.
The only reason I knew his name was because I was nosy as hell, asking about him, my fascination like an obsession. We’d never spoken, and to my knowledge he’d never even noticed me.
But I sure as hell have noticed him.
If ever there was a person who could be the poster boy for what a real man looked like, Deacon would be front and center.
The bay doors to his shop were open, and although it wasn’t hot out, I could see sweat covering his hard, muscular form. I swallowed. If anyone were to see me gawking at Deacon, they’d think I had some issues. I didn’t give one shit. Walking by his shop every day on my way to the community college I attended was the highlight of my damn day. The only downside was when I finally pulled myself away from the perfect male specimen that he was, I was breathless, wet, needy, and wishing I had someone to relieve the pent-up arousal that burned in me.
I want Deacon to be that someone. I want him to show me with those big, strong hands, the ones stained from his work, exactly how he likes it.
And I bet he liked it rough, bet he could really dominate and control a situation, have a woman begging for more.
I might be a virgin, might not be experienced in anything more than a hand job and some oral, but God, I wanted to learn a hell of a lot from Deacon. I wanted him to show me how a real man handled a woman.
And no doubt he could.
And I bet he liked it rough, bet he could really dominate and control a situation, have a woman begging for more.
I might be a virgin, might not be experienced in anything more than a hand job and some oral, but God, I wanted to learn a hell of a lot from Deacon. I wanted him to show me how a real man handled a woman.
And no doubt he could.
Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.
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Meet the men of Manning Grove, three small-town cops and brothers, who meet the women who will change the rest of their lives. This is Marc’s story…
JEANNE ST. JAMES is an erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only 13 started writing when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.
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