Five Ways 'Til Sunday

by Delilah Devlin

  Dedication

  Thanks to my wonderful editor, Lindsey, for her faith in me,

  and to my red-headed hellion who reminds me why sometimes

  animals eat their young—I love you!

  Chapter One

  Marti Kowalski waved a hand blindly behind her at her desk, swiping the inventory sheets she’d slaved over for two days, and her telephone, to the floor. She didn’t care about the mess—or by the crunch—the loss of her phone. Right this moment, she had Jackson where she wanted him—too far gone with want to worry what damage he might cause.

  His body was hard; his expression carved to a lustful edge, which promised the kind of sexy interlude she preferred—something spontaneous and surprising.

  Even after all the months they’d been seeing each other, he managed to surprise her. Like now. He’d pulled her from the door of the ladies’ restroom and goose-stepped her with her arm bent behind her back to the manager’s office, growling menacingly into her ear about the wicked things he’d do to her.

  Ma’am, keep quiet and I won’t hurt you.

  She’d shivered at the menace in his voice, but he’d rubbed her hip gently to remind her this was just a game.

  She had to hand it to him. He knew what made her hot.

  Jackson bent her over her desk and shoved up her blouse. His head ducked to pluck a nipple with his lips, and then he bit it.

  “I wasn’t expecting you,” she gasped, her fingers digging into the rigid Kevlar armor he wore beneath his dark shirt. “You’re on duty. Thought you didn’t cross that line when you’re wearing the uniform.”

  His head reared back. His dark eyes flashed. “Shut up, ma’am. You draw any attention, and I might have to get rough.”

  So he was still playing the role. She widened her eyes. “Please, sir, I’ll do anything.” She tried to infuse a little angst into her voice, but inside she was laughing uproariously.

  A glint of humor in his gaze might have just been the reflection of the overhead light because it quickly extinguished. He bared his teeth. A hand snuck between her thighs. A finger tucked beneath one side of the crotch of her panties and tugged. Elastic stretched and gave. His palm crammed against her bare pussy.

  There was no hiding how turned on she was. Not when cream smeared his hand.

  “Fuck, you’re hot.” He drew back, gripped her by the waist and gave her a little shake—just to remind her who was in charge here.

  Her head bobbed backward. Her heart skittered at the strength in those large, hard hands. He could so easily hurt her, but was careful to give her just the right kind of pain.

  Nostrils flaring, he did a good impression of a criminal intent on doing her bodily harm. She guessed he saw enough of them in his line of work to mimic the look.

  He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Sure this is the way you wanna play it?”

  “Baby, don’t stop now,” Marti moaned.

  His grunt accompanied the tightening of his hands on the corners of her hips. He gave no warning and whirled her around, then pushed gently on the back of her neck until she folded over her desk.

  Her short leather skirt lifted. Hands gripped her cheeks and squeezed. His mouth pressed against her skin.

  She huffed. “What kind of a rapist are you?”

  “One with an ass fetish.”

  She giggled and reached back to push him away, wriggling on the desk like she wanted to escape. “Stop,” she whispered huskily. “Stop or you’ll be sorry. My boyfriend’s a Memphis PD cop.”

  Another grunt was his only response. He straightened, his hard body rubbing against the back of her thighs and ass. An arm clamped over her lower back, holding her down. A zipper scraped. His cock nudged against her folds, thick, insistent—lord, Jackson was completely into this naughty game. He found her entrance and drove deep inside in a single, merciless thrust.

  Her body arched off the desk. “Oh shit!”

  “Did I hurt you?” he muttered, deeply embedded, but unmoving.

  Didn’t he know how to play this game? “You’re gonna pay, you bastard,” she said with an edge of a sob in her voice, but she wiggled her butt to let him know it was okay to proceed.

  He withdrew slowly then stroked deep again. This time his hands slammed the wood on either side of her shoulders. “Stick it up higher, slut,” he growled. “My balls are bangin’ the desk.”

  Slut? He’d never called her that before. She held back a chuckle, hoping the playacting wouldn’t end too soon. Jackson could only keep his focus up to a certain point. Not that she’d truly mind it when he dropped the act. Knowing she was the reason he couldn’t stay in control gave her deep satisfaction. She rose on tip-toe and tilted up her ass.

  His cock crowded through juicy, engorged walls, filling her up like no man ever had before. Maybe he really was that big, or maybe she’d never been so excited. Jackson was the best lover she’d ever had—the most adventurous with the most stamina. That his body was ripped like a bodybuilder’s only added to his dangerous appeal.

  She gave a short, throaty groan. “Ohmygod, that feels incredible.”

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Go away,” she shouted. To Jackson, she whispered, “Hate to say it, but we might have to rush this a bit.”

  Another, harder rap sounded. “Hey, Jackson, you in there?”

  Marti relaxed and pushed backward to take more of Jackson’s large cock. It was only his friend, Craig Eason, letting them know he was playing lookout. Not something he hadn’t done before.

  “Fucker,” Jackson bit out, banging her ass faster.

  Marti snickered then gasped when he swirled inside her to stroke her most sensitive spot. “Think he knows what we’re doing?”

  “He will if you keep making that noise.”

  “What noise?”

  He banged her again. “That bleating noise.”

  “You saying I sound like a goat?”

  “More like a fluffy little lamb. It’s cute.” A kiss landed on the back of her neck. “He’ll pick the lock if we don’t wrap it up.”

  Marti widened her stance and tilted just a little higher, needing more of her pussy smacked by his sharp, forceful thrusts. “That something he learned at the police academy?”

  “Nah. Craig wasn’t always a good guy.”

  Marti suspected Jackson was cut from the exact same cloth. Sure, he was an attentive boyfriend, kind to kids and dogs, but when he looked at her, sometimes she got the feeling there was something deeper and darker lurking in his past. Or maybe it was just the hardened criminals he dealt with rubbing off on him.

  Her pussy swelled, getting hot and so wet Jackson was swimming in her arousal. She aimed a smile over her shoulder. “Baby, I’m ready to rumble whenever you are.”

  “Shut up, lady,” he said, his voice rough as gravel again. “Think you can take this?”

  “Man,” she moaned, “my boyfriend’s soooo gonna kill you.”

  Jackson covered her back, jerking his hips to tunnel deeper. “Does he do it for you? Can he do it as good as I can?”

  She faced forward to hide her expression. “His cock’s bigger.”

  Laughter shook against her, and she grinned, gripping the far edge of the desk as she tried to hold still under a battery of hard thrusts.

  Her inner walls melted all around him. Her pussy pulsed, clasping tightly then weakening, then tightening again. She dragged in deep breaths. “God, Jackson, I’m close.”

  He hammered harder. “It’s okay, baby. I’m right there with you.”

  Marti pushed up on her arms with her head thrown back as she did indeed bleat a series of soft, staccato moans. Jackson’s own noises were more of a dog-like panting. Something she thought odd to think about
at a time like this, but he’d made her self-conscious about her sex sounds.

  “Stop thinkin’,” he rasped.

  “You pant like a dog,” she groused.

  “I like your bleats. If you didn’t do it, I’d know I was doin’ something wrong.”

  “Just finish it.” Finish me!

  And he did, changing his grip on her hips and shortening his thrusts, sharpening the finish with each precise stroke. Friction burned inside her, fluid gushed to add another juicy aspect to the bumping, bleating, panting cacophony echoing around her tiny office.

  A knock sounded again.

  “Go away!” they shouted in unison only to hear muffled laughter from the hallway.

  The thought of what Craig must be hearing was enough to shoot her over the top. She didn’t even try to hold back her strangled scream as she came.

  Jackson grunted once more then gave a hoarse shout. Come pulsed inside her.

  “I’m so glad we aren’t using rubbers anymore,” she said.

  A hoarse bark of laughter jolted her. As she fell from the high, the sharp edge of the desk cut into the bend of her thigh. She eased her heels to the ground and slumped against the sweaty wood.

  A hard hand cupped her shoulder. “Keep lookin’ straight ahead. Don’t move a muscle. I’m gonna back away. You move, you’ll be sorry.”

  “I won’t move,” she said with a lazy drawl, “but only ’cause I can’t.”

  His cock withdrew. A zipper rasped. The door whooshed open, and she turned in a panic to glance over her shoulder.

  Craig stood in the doorframe. His eyebrows shot up.

  Jackson shoved his buddy’s shoulder. “You can look, bro, but only ’cause she’ll like it.”

  Marti’s gaze locked with Jackson’s as both men stared at her bent over the desk, her skirt flipped up and her bare ass and pussy pointed right their way.

  Jackson winked then pulled Craig by the arm, closing the door behind them as they left.

  Facing forward again, she waited until her breathing evened and her legs stopped feeling like rubber then slowly pushed up. Once more, Jackson Teague had surprised her.

  Damn, but he really did get her.

  Jackson checked his zipper and adjusted his utility belt as he followed Craig down the darkened corridor and out the back exit of the bar.

  “You always talk that much during sex?”

  Jackson shrugged. “It turns her on. Just takes a little practice—and stamina.”

  Chuckling, Craig shook his head. “Did you ask her?”

  Jackson grimaced. “Never had a chance. Didn’t expect to barrel into her in the hallway—but then it was all over. Besides, Gus is probably right. She might not be the hearts and flowers kind of girl, but I should still make a gesture. Show her how much she means to me.”

  “Got any ideas?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Maybe if we get in a huddle with the others…”

  Jackson blew out a deep breath. “We aren’t plannin’ a quarterback rush. I wanna marry her, not mow through her defenses. I want her to want it too. But every time I get near the subject, she finds an excuse to get away or distracts me.” And his attention span wasn’t what it used to be. One whiff of perfume, a flash of her bare skin, and he was a goner.

  Pushing through the steel door and out into the alleyway, his buddy Craig shook his head. “You gotta have a strategy. A game plan. Marti isn’t your typical woman.”

  “Which is exactly why she’s the one for me. I can’t get her out of my mind, Craig. She’s makin’ me nuts.”

  Craig slung an arm around his shoulder. “You’re drivin’ us all nuts, buddy. Figure out why she’s so cagey about puttin’ a name on what you two have.”

  They headed left toward Beale. Jackson squinted into the hot, late afternoon sun. “She thinks she’s all wrong for me.”

  “Because she has a blue streak in her hair and an ink sleeve?”

  Jackson sighed. “I’m a cop. She doesn’t see herself as ‘proper spousal material’. Her words.”

  Craig shrugged then narrowed his eyes at him. “She does stand out. You haven’t introduced her to your mother yet, either. Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

  No matter that he was thirty years old, his mother would have taken a willow switch to his ass if she’d heard him call a woman a slut—even in play. Mary Teague had been married to a cop and was tough as nails. He’d been wary of introducing the two women. Despite Marti’s feistiness, he worried that his mom would scare her off.

  Yeah, Craig had a point. He had to be every bit as willing to commit to this relationship—or whatever it was they had. “I like the blue. And I like the damn tattoo. Mom’ll just have to get past that.”

  Truth was, he didn’t really mind Marti’s unconventional appearance. The blue streak perfectly matched her large, beautiful eyes. The tracery of rose brambles and red blooms on her arm suited her prickly but feminine demeanor. He also didn’t mind that she dressed in leather, had a nose piercing and worked in a bar. The cosmetic enhancements only made her small heart-shaped face look younger and more vulnerable—not a sentiment she’d appreciate.

  Since the first night he’d spotted her in The Emerald Tavern, he’d known he had to have her. The feeling had only gotten stronger over time.

  Marti might look as though she was completely wrong for him, but when he held her in his arms their differences melted away. He just wished he could figure out a way to convince her they belonged together.

  “Be straight with her,” Craig said, dropping his arm. “Ask her to be the same with you. Once you know what it is you have to tackle, then we’ll come up with a game plan.”

  “We?” He gave Craig a sideways shove, like they used to do in high school.

  Craig shoved right back and grinned. “Yeah, what are friends for? Besides givin’ your girl a thrill?”

  He never thought he’d need his friends to help him win a woman. But then he’d never had a more stubborn adversary. “Thanks, man.”

  “Buddy, I’ve got your back.” Craig cleared his throat. “Hope you don’t mind my sayin’ but your girl’s ass—“

  Jackson elbowed Craig’s ribs, slamming against his protective vest. “Don’t suppose you’re gonna keep that to yourself?”

  “You showed me your woman’s pussy. What the fuck do you think?” Craig chuckled. “So tell me, does she wax or did you shave it?”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Jackson flashed a grin but straightened his shoulders. “Think we can get back to business? Did you get us something to eat?”

  “Burgers and fries.” Craig hit the remote on his key ring as they approached the squad car parked at the curb. He grabbed a brown bag from the passenger seat then held it out for Jackson.

  They’d been canvassing the area, working as a pair, gathering information for the robbery detectives investigating a recent spree of hold ups in the downtown area. They had taken a late lunch break—but he hadn’t been able to resist slipping into the bar to see his girl. Now, they’d have to eat between calls, and the food was cold.

  Their next stop wasn’t very far. Jackson took a handful of fries and stuffed them in his mouth before entering the next establishment on their list.

  It was the site of the second robbery on this block in a week. During the first, the robber put the clerk and a couple customers in the novelty shop on the floor when he fled. This time, he duct-taped the restaurant’s cashier, a couple of waitresses and the cook, and left them in a storage room where the next shift found them.

  Jackson didn’t like to think of Marti facing the same scenario. But who would have the balls to rob a cops’ bar? Still, he’d have a little talk with her tonight about safeguards she should put into place. Maybe they’d do some role-playing too. The thought had him grinning as he followed Craig inside the restaurant.

  Chapter Two

  Marti struggled to regain her breath. “Take it back!”

  Jackson’s jaw firmed. Right along with the cock p
ushed deep inside her. He had her trapped beneath his beefy body, covered from chest to toe.

  What a dirty trick—asking her to marry him when she’d been that close to coming. She shoved at his shoulders. “Get off me.”

  “Not until we talk this out. If I let you up, you’ll run.”

  Pushing out her lower lip, she glared, although she was pretty sure the effect was blunted by the fact her mouth was already swollen after the blowjob she’d given him at the front door as soon as he’d arrived. “I take it back,” she muttered.

  “Which part? The ‘Oh God, you’re so fucking good’? Or the ‘I love you’?”

  “Both. You’re a jerk.”

  “I’m a jerk who’s still waitin’ for an answer.”

  She exhaled a shaky gust of air. “Well, the answer’s no.”

  Marti expected some disappointment. Maybe even a little anger, but he only smiled.

  Which irritated the snot out of her. Narrowing her eyes, she met his steady stare. “I mean it.”

  Jackson grunted. “I know you do.”

  “So why are you still here?”

  His eyebrows did a sexy up and down waggle. “Where? Inside you? Or not slammin’ through the door?”

  She huffed a breath, trying to ignore the fact her pussy was getting wetter by the moment. “Both.”

  “I’m a cop, testing soon to be a detective. I don’t take a statement at face value. I dig deeper.”

  She arched a brow. “You couldn’t get much deeper than you are right now.”

  “You weren’t complainin’ about that a minute ago.”

  “A minute ago, I didn’t know you were gonna spring something like that on me. Marry you? As if!”

  “What’s wrong with the idea?”

  “I’m wrong. Look at me.”

  They’d left on the lights on the nightstands—Jackson’s preference. His gaze burned a trail down her body, all the way to where their two bodies joined, then slowly back up again. “I don’t see the problem. We fit.”

  She ground her teeth. It was sweet and all that he seemed blind to their incompatibilities, but someone had to look out for him—for his own good. “I don’t have a college degree. Hell, I don’t even have a high school diploma.”