by Haven Rose
Chapter Eight
Keller
January 6th…
I literally had to drag myself out of bed this morning, and even then, I did so later than planned. Then again, that might’ve had something to do with the fact Emerson and I were up late making love and I hate not having her in my arms.
But we both had places to be, so we went about getting ready and parted ways after delaying it as long as possible. We haven’t spent a night apart since New Year’s Eve. We celebrated that next day, and when she’d mentioned needing to go home, reluctance clear in her voice, I told her she did…but only to pack a bag.
The relief on her face made me want to kick my own ass. Apparently, I’d failed to show her what she’s starting to mean to me, so I’d then spent that evening doing so with words and actions. By the time we’d both sated our need, well, temporarily at least, we’d been gasping for air, having to take deep breaths in between downing a bottle of water each as we’d depleted a lot of our resources during the rigorous bouts of sex.
Emerson brings out a different side of me, and I don’t just mean emotionally. It’s physical, too, and she said I do the same for her. We’ve discovered a little pain can heighten the pleasure, though I also believe it works because it’s us. Hell, I’ve never had this almost dark need before, and she assured me she hadn’t either.
And that thought alone, the mere idea of another man with my phoenix makes me furious, so I quickly push that aside and lock that shit down. It’s still there, unfortunately, and I picture it sinking in quicksand, never to appear again. That helps, but to make it even better, I’ll need to re-mark her tonight.
Seeing my brand on her, so to speak, turns us both the fuck on, and usually leads to yet another round, one that includes her returning the favor by digging her nails in while I take her. I want to tattoo those divots in my skin, letting the whole fucking world know this wonderful woman is mine and I’m hers.
Thinking about sinking into her before having to deal with what awaits me inside the building probably isn’t smart, but I need the memories, and the visual, to get through the second phase of my punishment.
As if leaving her wasn’t enough of one after having her all to myself over the weekend. I’m selfish with her time and hate to share it, loathe anyone looking at my Emerson. I’ve always upheld the law, but I have realized I wouldn’t hesitate to break all of them for her.
I meant to look over the roster the other day, but Emerson was much more interesting, so I make a mental note to do so once I’m in my room before the students start arriving. Taking a last swig of my coffee, wishing it was something stronger, I grab my stuff and make my way inside, my usual scowl in place to deter others from talking to me. They all think I’m a dick anyway, so they avoid me whenever possible.
Yet another way the higher ups are tormenting me for attempting to do the right thing – forcing me to be social. Next they’ll attempt to make me attend group lunches and bake cookies and shit. A shudder tears through at the mere thought, the muffin I’d inhaled while sitting in the parking lot threatening to come up.
Entering my class, I prepare for the arrival of those who will surely piss me off. As they start streaming in, I hear a whistle and glance at the door, curious at the reason for it. That quickly morphs to rage when Emerson enters.
Seeing the look on my face, she rushes forward to soothe me, though there’s confusion and surprise on her own. “What’s wrong?” She wants to know.
“Some fucker was eyeing you.” She shakes her head, but doesn’t deny it as she’d heard the noise, too. Unless they also said something to her. Not wanting to ruin her sweet gesture of stopping to see me, I ask, “Did you miss me?” Only to realize two things. First, she didn’t know I’d be here. Second, she isn’t wearing the same clothes she had on when we went our different ways just an hour ago. Questioning her on it, she begins to fidget, her fingers twisting, a tell when it comes to her. That’s when it hits. She’d mentioned starting school today, but never fully answered what kind. And that hurts me. Why wouldn’t she tell me? She knows I’m a cop. Of course, my conscience reminds me, you weren’t exactly forthcoming either, dumbass.
A fact she discovers at the same time. “You said you were a cop, not a teacher,” she states accusingly.
“I am,” I inform her, then throw out my own accusation. “You never said you wanted to join the force.”
“Never said I didn’t,” she hedges.
“You’re using semantics to get out of lying to me?” Her cheeks pinken at that, though this time it’s not from arousal but shame. Regret. She takes a couple steps back at my tone, but she’s saved from replying when more students come in and I tell everyone to find a seat. Emerson stares at me, and my heart aches at the liquid pooling in her eyes and I instantly move toward her, no longer caring she kept this from me. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It bothered me that you felt you couldn’t share this with me.”
“No, I should be the one apologizing. My parents didn’t take my dream well. It’s actually why we don’t talk much. They wanted me to follow the path they chose for me and I refused.”
“And you were worried I might react the same?” She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek, and that’s when I understand how deeply they hurt her. My anger fades at the evidence of her pain, the realization mine doesn’t even measure on the same scale. If my dad and mom had done that to me… Not caring that the others can see, I start to take her in my arms, wanting to offer comfort and my forgiveness.
Then Potter peeks his head in the classroom, his gaze trailing over Emerson from top to bottom, and gives me a thumbs up. It’s then I recall the rumors that began spreading a couple years ago about a few of the instructors, Potter included, and decide to add them to my list of scumbags to investigate. Word is they prey on the female students, lying by promising things they can’t deliver. It explains why the number of women in the department have steadily dwindled, though none of them ever came forward. Of course, that could have something to do with Potter being the mayor’s nephew by marriage.
I understand wanting to protect your family. Hell, I’d do anything for mine, but there has to be a limit when they cross the line, or, more aptly in this instance, the law. Not that the mayor has ever struck me as a man that’s capable of doing the right thing. He’s more about doing what benefits him, and having a relative smear his reputation, even indirectly, would not look good come re-election.
Ignoring Potter, I say out loud, “Ms. Emerson, please take your seat. You’re holding up the class with your theatrics.” She gasps at my words, and I rise my head to see her, praying she can see the pleading in my gaze. Baby, trust me. Please.
She turns on her heel and my heart cracks, hoping I’m not making a life-altering mistake, but that thing about family? Emerson is mine now and I’ll do whatever I need to in order to ensure she’s safe. Unfortunately, that seems to mean hurting her, making her doubt what we have. But I see something in Potter’s expression when I sneak a peek at him, and it seems like disappointment. In me? Not that I give a fuck. I’d cut off my left nut rather than have him agree with something I’ve done.
Oh shit. How did I miss it? My job requires me to be on my toes, to always be aware of what’s going on around me, but I just figured out he’s spying on me for his uncle. I knew they were watching me, but I didn’t expect this level of it. However, I took away a possible weakness by treating Emerson as if she’s trash, a nuisance, so perhaps that will be enough to get her off their radar.
I can explain my initial reaction to her, labeling it as not wanting to be accused of favoritism. It’ll be true, not to mention they’d frown upon her and I being involved and question her place once she graduates – and I know she will with flying colors. That will taint any accomplishment she makes from then on, and I can’t have that.
But she can’t know the rest, that the people she views as heroes, holds to standards they cannot all reach, are assholes that can be bought and sold without any
hesitation.
Chapter Nine
Emerson
January 9th…
“I know I teased you Monday night about finally remembering you live here, but you’re giving me a complex with how unhappy you seem to be back,” Edison says when he once again finds me crying after he gets home for the day. “You didn’t even smile at that nor flick me off. This is an Emer-gency,” he states, punning my name. Usually, that would crack me up, but not now. Not when my heart is hurting so much. He sighs, then walks down the hall toward his bedroom. I hear him muttering an ouch here and there and lay my head on my knees to return to my sobbing. “Okay,” he states as the couch absorbs his presence, “tell big brother all about it. Then I’ll grab my shovel and we’ll deal with the problem.”
“As much as I enjoy the imagery that brings, I truly don’t want him hurt.”
“Ugh,” he mutters, “I should’ve known it was a man.”
“You don’t seem loyal to your own gender, brother dear.”
“Not when it comes to my sister. They can all fuck off. You always come first.”
That just makes me cry again, not that I really stopped. “Wish he felt the same.”
“Really not lessening my need to get revenge,” he warns me. I tell him what happened, leaving out the intimate details of course because eww. “So, he didn’t take you being there well.”
I scoff bitterly. “That’s an understatement.”
“Do you think it’s due to the fact you lied to him?” I turn to defend myself, but he just cocks his eyebrow.
“It feels like you’re admonishing your minions when you do that,” I mutter.
“Don’t try and change the subject. You and I both know you did. And Keller does, too. How do you think that made him feel? If you two had grown as close as it sounds you did, that had to feel like a betrayal of that growing connection.” I open my mouth to refute that, then snap it closed. “Just saw it from his side, huh?”
“Stop lawyering me,” I demand. “Your skills at arguing suck,” I tack on, which isn’t true.
“Why? Because you know I’m right?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“What are you gonna do about it?”
**Keller**
“She won’t talk to me,” I tell my mom who sympathetically gives me a hug. “Even in class, she refuses to answer questions that I know she knows. She rushes out when it’s over, ensuring I can’t get a minute alone with her. I drive by her place but she never comes to the door.” I’d told my parents about her a couple days after seeing her for the first time, and it didn’t take them long to understand she was special.
“You love her,” dad states, not phrasing it as a question. I knew I was heading that direction, but I didn’t realize I’d officially fallen until she wouldn’t speak to me.
“How can I beg her to give me another chance if she won’t pick up her damn phone?” I ask in frustration, pissed at myself not her.
“Why would she?” My mom wants to know.
“Shouldn’t you be sticking up for me?”
“I’m your ride or die, girl,” she says, making me laugh. “But you hurt her. She feared telling you her dream because those who should have her back no matter what, didn’t.”
“And to protect herself from that happening again, she withheld it.”
“Wonder why she was so worried?” My dad muses. “I mean, you clearly took it well.”
I glare, then remind him, “I was pissed at first, but it faded just as fast.” I run my hands through my hair, remembering how much she likes to do the same thing when we’re in bed.
“Then why’d you treat her so bad after that?” Yeah, I didn’t explain that part. Dad may have retired a while ago, but he’s still friends with a few of his former co-workers. The gossip mill was obviously running and he was the recipient.
“Potter.”
“The mayor’s nephew? What’s that weasel have to do with Emerson?” He gets quiet, then says, “Never mind. I figured it out.”
“I saw the way he was looking at her and had to shield her from him and his asshat crew. And I had to do so quickly.”
“And you didn’t want to risk anyone thinking Emerson didn’t earn her place with brains and talent, not on her back,” Mom guesses.
I stare at her in shock, then ask, “You kiss dad with that potty mouth?”
“Where do you think she gets it from?” He responds with a smirk.
“Have I not suffered enough? Are you trying to scar me for life?”
“Perhaps if we keep giving you shit; you’ll go after your woman and fix this.”
“You aren’t getting any younger, you know,” Mom taunts with a grin. I stay a bit longer, then go home, hating that it now feels like a hollow shell without Emerson in it. I try to call her again and again, only to receive the same response. Nothing.
Deciding to occupy myself with what I’d been obsessed with until Emerson took that distinction, I start re-reading my files and notes regarding the mayor and his buddies. Hoping something I’d missed before would suddenly catch my eye.
It definitely did, but not in the way I ever expected.
My phoenix is Anthony Malone’s daughter? Why wouldn’t she tell me? Then again, why would she?
Perhaps if she knew your current situation…
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter out loud. Just like with the other thing, this wasn’t done with any evil intention. That was a defensive move on her part, and well, from what she’d shared, saying she didn’t have the best relationship with her parents is an understatement.
This knowledge doesn’t change who she is, doesn’t make her any less the woman I’d fallen for. Quite the opposite, actually. It’s proof of her true character. She could’ve easily existed as the dutiful daughter of a wealthy family, but she didn’t want that. Emerson fought for the right to choose her own path, one that resulted in her dad and mom turning against her as if disappointed in her.
How could they be anything but proud? I know I am, even more so knowing where and who she came from. I just need to tell her that.
If I get the chance, I’ll take her in my arms, ready to forgive and forget simply to have her where back where she belongs.
Chapter Ten
Emerson
January 11th…
“I brought doughnuts,” I tell Keller when he opens his door, “and I don’t want to brag, but they’re jelly filled.”
“That old stereotype as a bribe?” Then he smiles before reaching out and tugging me against him. “I do enjoy them, but you’re a much better incentive.” Enveloped in his arms, his scent surrounding me, I can finally breathe again. He hasn’t said that we’re okay, but he doesn’t need to either. He’s showing me instead.
“I’m sorry,” I say, his chest muffling my apology. “Edison pulled me from my misery and made me see it from your side. Damn lawyers,” I inform him, muttering the last part as if in outrage to which he agrees they’re the worst. “I should’ve told you, but…”
“You were scared I’d react like your parents.”
Nodding, I admit, “That wasn’t fair to you, though.”
“Maybe not, yet I can understand why you didn’t.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head, then seems to breathe in the scent of my hair. “I owe you one myself. Two, honestly. Not telling you I was currently teaching instead of out in the field and how I handled seeing you.”
“You were surprised,” I say, defending him to himself.
“This is true. However, I got over that quickly and realized why you did it. Seeing how scared you were, how hurt when telling me about your parents’ reaction… I forgave you, my only thought to comfort you, assure you we’d get through it.”
“But you didn’t. You acted like an ass, dismissing me as if I were a nuisance.” He sighs, his expression full of regret, then explains about Potter and his ilk, and their proclivity to torment any female that attempts to graduate from the academy. “So you were protecting me.”
“Trying to,” he admits. “I wanted to tell you, hating the thought that for even a second you believed that shit I was spewing.”
“But I didn’t give you a chance,” I remind him.
“You shot outta there so fast I expected scorch marks on the floor.”
“Can we agree that we both could’ve handled it differently, and if we’d talked about this beforehand, none of this would’ve happened?”
“Yes,” Keller says, “gladly. Fair warning, you’re sleeping in my damn bed tonight. I’ve fucking missed you like crazy, phoenix.”
“I missed you, too,” I let him know. Then, knowing full well what I’m doing, tack on, “My fingers just don’t do it for me anymore.”
**Keller**
“Were you playing with my pussy?” I ask, stalking forward.
“I was lonely,” she explains, as if that excuses her.
“That deserves a spanking, don’t you think?” Her pupils dilate, giving me my answer. “Might need to take measures to ensure you don’t interfere with them.” She moans, her thighs rubbing together, and I decide to tease her a little. “So, what kind did you say again? Jelly?”
“Perhaps I need to handcuff you?” She taunts, knowing full well what I was implying, and fuck if my dick doesn’t jerk in my sweats at the idea of it, of her taking what she wants from me. “Can you handle that? Letting me be in control?”
“Why don’t we find out?” The little minx decides to torture me in other ways. Dropping to her knees, she pulls my waistband down just enough for my cock to pop out. “Well, well, well,” Emerson murmurs, “he seems happy to see me.” And then she takes me in her mouth and makes me see stars, my cum coating her throat within minutes. I’m not at all embarrassed by how quickly she made it happen either. It’s not a weakness, not something to be ashamed of. I revel in the power she has over me. Exalt in the fact I have the same over her. Dropping to my own knees, I push her until she’s flat on her back, then smash my lips to hers, uncaring that I’m tasting my own release. It’s mixed with hers and I can’t get enough. “I’m gonna fuck you, sweetness, but first, I need your juices on my tongue.” I hastily rip her jeans off, followed by her panties, then dive in. She’s wiggling around, trying to get closer, her hands gripping my hair and pushing me against her.
