by Sasha Goldie
"We've just had a large bit of food donated. We can cook it up, but Brady says you'll know the best way to handle it all before it goes bad."
I shot him a teasing look, pretending to be mad at him. "What do you want to do with the food? Use it to feed the officers?"
"We would like to use the food to take meals to a few families and seniors in the county."
That was relevant information. I could use it to make a huge meal that could be divided. I'd spent the entire morning in the kitchen, why not the afternoon as well?
The door in the back of the office area led to a hallway. "The cells are down that stairwell," she pointed to a door on the left. "Bathroom there." Door on the right.
The end of the hall had a door that opened into a large kitchen and dining area full of folding tables and chairs. It was basic but had enough to get the job done. The table closest to the kitchen was full of grocery store bags.
"How'd you come across all this food?" I asked as I started peeking into the bags. Canned goods, mainly. Some snacks. A few drinks.
"A member of the community died and she didn't have any relatives or an heir. While they sort out her estate, her neighbor brought all her food to us. She spent a lot of time volunteering, so we figured she'd like it if her food went to people that needed it."
"I think that's wonderful. I'd be happy to help you cook it." The distraction would be welcome.
“Thanks.” Brady stood in the doorway. "Well, I'm going to get back to the front. I'm on desk duty today. Yell if you need me." He disappeared quickly.
"He just didn't want to help, did he?" I joked with Martha.
"Eh, he's a good boy. You could do worse."
She was right. I could do a lot worse.
The food wasn't as much as they made it out to be. We divided up the snacks for families with kids, then I divided up the perishables into as many different dishes as I could. The afternoon in the hot kitchen with Martha ended up being a lot of fun. She told me stories about Brady's early days on the force.
"We don't get many prisoners, not really," she said as she stirred a pasta sauce. "But before Brady was too young to be an official officer, he was in charge of the cells. And we had an actual murder. It was solved in no time, the man killed his wife and confessed immediately. Before the horrible man could be sent to the state prison, he had to be housed here. I think Brady had been on the force a week or so. No time at all." She cackled in glee. "That poor child had to sit down there in that creepy room with a murderer, and this man was enormous. He was over six feet tall, looked like a bodybuilder. Every time he moved, Brady jumped. We all spent every spare minute spying on them and making noises to frighten the poor boy."
She wiped a tear from her eye as she added a few spices to the sauce. "Oh, those were the good old days."
Her stories about Brady made me long to hear more. I wanted to know about his childhood, his family, his awkward teen years. I found myself imagining what he would be like as a father, as a husband. As a lover.
Why was I trying to run away from this man?
Soon we had the food packaged and ready to go, piled up on the table. "You are free to go, young man," Martha said with a pat on my back. "Captain is coming in to get these and deliver them. You go find Brady and tell him to go home."
I checked my watch and realized we'd worked late into the evening. It was after eight! It had taken so much longer than I'd expected.
"You ready?" I asked, walking up to Brady. He sat at his desk with his feet up, hands behind his head.
He lurched forward with a grunt, nearly falling out of his chair. "Yes," he said loudly. "Ready."
"Sleeping on the job now?" I asked. I was totally exhausted and ready to get home. "Let's get going."
Brady took my hand as soon as we settled into the truck, and my exhaustion disappeared with every light stroke of his thumb over the top of my hand. He was lost in thought, caressing my hand without really knowing what he was doing to me.
Every time his thumb moved, my dick hardened a bit more. By the time we got home, my cock was as hard as a velvet-covered diamond.
"I can't control myself anymore," I said as Brady turned the truck off.
He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean...this." Launching myself across the seat, I grabbed Brady's face and kissed him hard.
"Corey," he mumbled against my lips. I pulled back and smiled at him. "Are you sure?"
"Do you have condoms?" I asked seriously.
He nodded.
"Then I'm sure." Pressing my lips to his, I tried to show him how serious I was.
"It doesn't have to be forever. It doesn't have to be anything but casual until I figure out what I'm doing, but fuck, I can't keep denying how much I want to do this."
My hands roamed his face, neck, and chest, rubbing, squeezing, and exploring. I wanted to commit him to my memory. I'd leave eventually, and who knew if I'd ever find someone like him again?
His tongue pushed at my lips, and I gladly opened my mouth to give him access. My hands were frantic, eager, but his were sensual, sexy. He wrapped his arms around me, running his hands under my shirt and rubbing my back. His fingers traced a pattern, and I knew he was feeling my scars.
"One day, I hope you tell me about them," he whispered. I breathed heavily, the weight of my past slowing down my eagerness.
"I think I'd like to." Pulling away from him, I got out of the truck and walked into his kitchen, then straight through the room and to the stairs, turning so I could watch him walk in as I put a foot on the top stair. I admired his broad chest as he set his lunchbox on the table. "What are you doing?" he asked, a small smile playing at his lips.
Turning my back to him, I kicked off my shoes, pulled my shirt off and threw it across the room, then started up the stairs, my breath catching. I hadn’t been so bold in years. It felt great.
With a growl, he followed. The anticipation of knowing he was behind me made me move fast, a squeal sticking in my throat. When I reached his bedroom, I launched myself onto the bed and up to the head.
He stopped in the door and watched me, a tender look on his face as he unbuckled his belt. Rolling onto my back, I settled in to watch him undress. He removed his gun first, walking into his closet and coming back out without it. I'd seen a small safe in there when I'd looked for a shirt. He probably put it in there.
His badge came off next, and he put it in a shallow bowl on his dresser. Then the utility belt was hung from a hook beside the door.
Slowly unbuttoning his shirt, he walked closer to the bed. "Wait," I whispered. "Leave it on?"
15
Brady
Being a gentleman while I want to attack Corey is one of the biggest lessons in self-control I've ever had. I deserved a medal for taking my time and doing it right. When he told me to leave my uniform on, I nearly came unglued.
"Just unbutton your pants," Corey said, doing the same to his own. "And take out your cock."
I'd seen his twice, and couldn't wait to feel it again, but he still hadn't seen mine. I wasn't so much with the length, but my girth was nothing to be ashamed of. I'd have to prep him well.
Moving my hand to my button slowly, I slid my fingers under my waistband, sliding them left and right to untuck my shirt and tease Corey.
"You like my uniform?" I asked him. My voice came out deep and sultry. Damn. "You want to see my cock hanging out, hard for you?"
"Fuck, yes," Corey whispered, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"I love your enthusiasm," I said as I walked to the side of the bed, closer to the head. With the back of my shirt untucked, I slid my hands back to the front, unbuttoning the button on my pants. Corey's eyes were glued to my crotch, where I was sure the imprint of my hard-on strained against the material. Instead of unzipping, though, I slowly unbuttoned my uniform shirt, exposing the thin white tank I wore underneath. If I'd known he'd want to fuck me with the uniform on, I would've taken the undershirt off.
Oh, well. Corey sat up, jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, and shimmied them down his thighs. His hard dick sprang out, pointing straight at me, and again, I nearly lost it. My mouth filled with saliva, the desire to run my tongue up his shaft nearly a craving. He fell back onto his butt, kicking his jeans totally off and lying back again, this time with one hand on his cock.
"Stroke it," I told him. I wanted to watch him pleasure himself again, like the night I'd walked in on him. "One day, I'm going to watch you make yourself come, from start to finish. I don't think I can keep my hands off of you tonight, but I want to see your face as your hand brings your orgasm."
"For fuck's sake, Brady, you can't say stuff like that and not come over here and touch me," Corey said as he arched his back. "If you don't put your hands and mouth on me, I'm going to lose it."
I didn't do as he asked. Instead, I unzipped my pants and was about to reach into my boxer briefs to pull my dick out when Corey stopped me. He moved to his knees again. "Let me," he said. He pushed my pants down, and I stepped out of them, my bulge straining my underwear. With a little help from me, he pulled those off as well.
His chest rose and fell a bit higher as my cock was revealed. I didn't know if he liked what he saw or he was just that horny, but I appreciated his excitement.
"I owe you an orgasm," he murmured, taking me into his hand. He only stroked me a few times, cupping my balls, then he looked up at me as he ran his tongue along the underside of my shaft.
My knees trembled, something that I didn't think had ever happened to me before. He actually made me weak-kneed. When he took me fully into his mouth, I moaned and ran my fingers through his hair, gripping the back tightly to slow him down. If he kept going like he was, I would come in his mouth in minutes. I wanted to prolong it a bit more than that.
He moaned when my fingers tightened in his hair. He liked it. I put my other hand on his shoulder, using both to slow him down. He put one hand at the base of my shaft and the other on my hip, stilling his movements and pushing at my hip. He wanted me to move.
Shuddering, I moved my hips slowly, watching my cock move in and out of his plump lips. He was the hottest man I'd ever met.
"Touch your cock," I said. "Pleasure yourself while I use this plump mouth."
He moaned. I'd have to remember how much he liked dirty talk and when I told him what to do. Watching him move his hand on his dick while I fucked his mouth finally undid me. "I'm going to come soon," I warned him. If he didn't want me to come in his mouth, now was his chance to pull back.
He didn't. I tried to move slowly. The last thing I wanted to do was make him gag, but as my orgasm moved over me, I pushed farther and farther down his throat. The feel of his hot mouth on my shaft took me higher and higher. While I didn't want to think about how he'd learned his blow-job skills, I was certainly thankful for them. He was a god, and he was mine, at least for now.
He pumped his cock faster and harder, moaning against my dick. I watched his small hand move up and down as his stomach muscles clenched. He liked sucking my dick.
The feel of the vibrations of his voice around the head of my cock was the last straw. I couldn't wait. Never in my life had I felt so out of control with a partner. Corey had the ability to undo me.
"Corey," I breathed. "You're amazing." I groaned and pushed forward hard. My cum shot down his throat, and he closed his mouth around me, sucking me down like he was starved for my taste.
The second I was done, I dropped to my knees, pushing him back, running my hands along his stomach. He was lean, and his muscles rippled under my touch.
I didn't want him to come without tasting him first. I would rather have fucked him senseless, but he wasn't leaving immediately. We had time to do this again, properly, tenderly.
Taking him into my mouth, I stroked him as I moved my mouth over his head.
"I can't hold out long," he said in a strained voice as he sat up on his elbows and watched me. "You're the one who's amazing."
Wetting his cock thoroughly, I lifted my mouth off of him. "I want to watch your face," I said as I finished him off with my hand. His hot cum spurted onto his lower stomach, but his face captured my attention.
His beautiful, delicate features scrunched up, his eyebrows knitting together. The focus of his eyes strayed, but he kept my gaze. Corey's perfect pouty lips formed a circle, and he came quietly. He'd been so loud before, I'd expected him to come with a shout, but his whispered breath as his cum slicked his body was perfection.
Snatching the box of tissues from my bedside table, I wiped him off, then pulled the blankets down. He scooted over a little. "Don't go far," I whispered as I climbed into bed beside him. It was far too early for us to go to sleep, but I wanted to hold him close to me more than anything. "Come here," I said as I slid one arm under his head.
He wanted casual, but all I wanted was to care for him, pleasure him. I wanted to stay with him.
I'd have to find a way to convince him to stay. As I squeezed him close and buried my face in his hair, I tried to think of ways to show him Three Lakes was the perfect place for him to settle.
16
Corey
The morning sun woke me like a damn cartoon musical. Birds chirped just outside Brady's bedroom window and the rays of light danced across the quilt covering his bed.
Fuck this. I rolled over and burrowed into the blankets, covering my head with a pillow.
When I woke again, the loud-ass bird was gone, thankfully. Brady moved around the bedroom, picking up his discarded uniform and throwing it into a basket.
"Good morning," I said, smiling at him as I stretched. "Did you sleep well?"
"No," he said, but he had a happy expression on his face. "I kept waking up and looking at you, really happy to have you in my bed."
Damn, I'd slept like a rock. I liked Brady and all, but I'd been exhausted. He didn't know I'd worked a full shift at the diner before helping at the police station, though. And I wasn't at all used to working long hours. John had me stay home and keep house, which I didn't mind, really. It had felt great to put in a hard day's work. The amazing orgasm at the end hadn't hurt, either.
Sitting on the side of the bed, he leaned over and kissed me. As he grew closer, I sucked in my breath, hoping to keep any morning-breath smells inside my mouth.
"I'm going to take a shower," he whispered as he pulled back. "We don't have much time, but would you care to join me?"
The thought of watching him soap up his wet body woke me up completely, and I hadn't even had my normal four cups of coffee. "Yes. Fuck, yes."
He laughed, my potty mouth seemed to amuse him. It was a contrast from his own. He hadn't cursed much at all in the few days I'd known him.
As he walked toward the door leading to his bathroom, I blinked rapidly. How had it only been a few days? I was so comfortable here, as if I'd lived with him for months and months. We weren't to the farting stage yet, thank goodness, but I felt so safe and at home.
I rolled out of the bed and realized I was still totally naked, but Brady had been wearing pajama pants. "Did you get up after I fell asleep last night?" I asked as I sauntered into the bathroom. Brady pulled a new toothbrush out of his cabinet as I walked in.
"Here, now you don't have to go back to the cottage to get yours. Yes, I was hungry. You crashed fast, so I figured you needed the rest. I made a sandwich."
He handed me the toothpaste, which I took gratefully, loading up the new toothbrush. If, hopefully when, things got freaky in the shower, my breath would be minty fresh.
As I brushed, I realized I wasn't upset. I didn't regret what we'd done. I didn't feel cheap, or dirty.
Sex had always been fun for me. I'd never regretted the times I'd gone into sex willingly. But sometimes, I'd gone into sex in order to make someone else happy or pay a debt.
Those times soured the event in my heart, just a little. Every time I had sex for the wrong reasons, it made the act a little less special.
I'd
often considered becoming a sex worker. If I went into it of my own accord, I had power over the act, power over the situation. But I never had, always scared of losing the element about sex that made it special and fun.
Sex with Brady had felt natural. We were compatible. And if we got any hotter together, we'd both burst into flames. As I spat into the sink, I watched Brady out of the corner of my eye as he dropped his pajama pants.
He wasn't wearing underwear this time. His dick wasn't hard, but he was a shower, for sure. I was more of a grower, but I'd hardened the minute he'd kissed me, so no worries about the inevitable moment of him seeing me soft.
My little buddy was a grower. A big grower. When he was sleeping, he tucked himself together, giving the impression I was rather small. Smiling at Brady, I thanked my lucky stars that he'd seen me hard first.
"What?" he asked, looking down at himself, his eyes running from my hard dick to his flaccid. As he realized I was turned on, I watched his cock firm, growing longer and harder.
"You're going to make me come this time," I told him as I grabbed my base and squeezed. "With your hand."
I wanted him to suck me off, wanted to shoot my load down the back of his throat. The thought of the big, strong man on his knees in front of me was a beautiful image, but before I let him do that without a condom, I wanted to get a few tests done.
And I didn't have the money to get a few tests done.
If I'd learned anything, it was that John was a complete liar. There was no telling if he'd been faithful to me.
I knew I should've had him wear a condom when he'd fucked my mouth, but something about Brady made me trust him. If there was a risk of disease, he wouldn't have come in my mouth. He'd treated me like a prince as if he cared about my well-being, my peace of mind, and now he treated me like he cared about my pleasure. I trusted him.
If it was a huge mistake, I guessed I'd pay for it later. For now, I planned to enjoy the ride until it was time to move on.
