Blacksmith by Jenika Snow
A Real Man #10
Steel isn’t the only thing that’s hard.
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.
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.
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.
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.
About the author
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.