Hustle

by Teagan Kade

  “He told me everything.”

  I turn away, focus on a poster for mental illness awareness. “You going to call me in? Police duty and all?”

  She places her hand on my shoulder, turns me to face her. “Of course not. I just wish you’d told me all of this earlier. I could have helped.”

  “Help?” I laugh. “Do you know who these guys are? They’re fucking animals. One of the other guys who was with me, my deputy? They found him fucking scalped. I picture you like that and… fuck.”

  “I get it, Deacon. I understand why you wanted to push me away, but I’m telling you I understand the risk and I still want to be with you, whatever it takes. I have contacts, people who can set you and your brothers up back home. Bo can get the surgeries he needs. We can do this.”

  “In Witness Protection? We both knows that’s about as safe as a loaded gun. And what, pray tell, would I have to provide in turn? The money? Because you know what? I don’t have it. Never did.”

  “You didn’t take it?”

  “I’m not a criminal, Lux. You want to know what happened to that money, what really happened?”

  She doesn’t reply.

  “We burnt it.” My deputy thought we should take it, but I remained firm. I had no need for it, not with the inheritance from our parents. The other officer with us, Dean? He was old school, was behind me one-hundred-percent the only place for that dirty money was the fucking fire. We watched it burn to ash, all of it, and trust me, three-million doesn’t even look like they much when it’s all collected together like that, even less when it’s smoldering.

  “The bikers? They’re not coming for their money. They’re coming for revenge. They’re coming to kill me and inflict as much pain in the process as possible for what I did. That’s why I couldn’t have you standing in their way, attached to me in any way. I can’t bear any more collateral damage from this. My deputy, the extra officer—that was enough. They didn’t deserve to die, not like that.”

  Lux takes my hands. They look so small and tiny in my own. “I’ll say it again and this time I want you to listen, because you’re sure as hell thick as they come. I. Want. To. Be. With. You.”

  I’m shaking my head. “There’s going to be trouble.”

  “We’ll face it together.”

  “Lives may be lost.”

  “Not on my watch.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “And who are you? Lara Croft?”

  She smiles. “Nope, just a lean, mean, ass-kicking machine.”

  I can only shake my head in return. “Easy there, Rambo.”CHAPTER NINETEEN

  LUX

  Deacon and I arrive home late. Razor was happy to stay at the hospital and said he’d meet us later on. I think he realized we needed some alone time, not that either of us has made a move.

  It’s strange walking into this house empty, devoid of life and the masculinity that always seems so pervasive. “It’s quiet,” I note, watching through the front windows.

  The rain abated as soon as we left the hospital, but still there lurks a building black and grey on the horizon. Even the air seems filled with electricity, with warning. The swell’s picking up. I can see it beckoning beyond.

  Deacon comes up behind me, hands snaking around my waist, his package pressed tight against my ass still warm from the seat of his motorcycle. I didn’t even know the brothers had bikes until today. It’s not like they need that kind of transportation in a town where they can walk everywhere. That said, I enjoyed riding with him, my chest against his back, my thighs clamping his waist, the engine thrumming below us.

  His lips brush my neck. “What do you see?”

  I tilt my head sideways, expose more of my skin. “Something coming. Something… big.”

  He thrusts himself forward, continuing to kiss down my neck. “Really? We’re all alone, you know.”

  “Are you worried?”

  “Worried?” he replies, a whisper.

  “About the people coming to get you?”

  “Of course, but there’s been no sign of anyone in town, no trouble yet.”

  “But there could be?”

  He reaches around and pops the button of my jeans. “Maybe, but for now I just want to live in the moment. Can we do that?”

  I don’t need any more encouragement. I turn and kiss him, hold his face in my hands as our tongues roll and press together, the warmth and wetness between us suffocating.

  He peels my jacket off and tosses it to the floor before he pulls my shirt free. It’s only a millisecond we’re separated, never wanting to break the kiss, the connection. I return the favor and, shirtless, we collapse to the carpet together snatching and grabbing, desperate to free ourselves of clothing.

  My panties fly against the wall as I fish for his cock, drawing it free, lightly stroking it above my chest. He sinks down, his hot mouth closing over my nipple and pulling it in.

  I gasp and grab at his hair with my free hand, everything suddenly turned primal and animalistic, pure action without thought, the carpet raw and rough under my ass.

  His hard body hangs above me, the nipple in his mouth released wet and plump, his fingers wrap around my breast, the others moving down to cup my pussy, a lone digit breaking from the pack to slip inside.

  I kiss him deeply, fingers matted in his hair. My back arches off the floor, the slippery fissure of my sex a furnace between my thighs.

  I moan around his tongue, the hint of coconut and salt upon it, the smell of Sex Wax heavy but my arousal greater.

  I’m so wet the carpet is growing damp below. He adds a second finger and my body arches towards him, my feet flattening as I lift my hips.

  I’m sweating hard, losing track of time and place. “Deacon,” I call, barely audible.

  He replies by sliding down my body. His hands shift under my thighs to splay my legs wide, the pink, juicy slit of my sex yawning open before his greedy eyes. He looks down at my bare pussy and smiles. “Do you even know how wet you are?”

  “No,” I breathe, lifting my hips towards his voice, the need all-consuming.

  Without warning he presses his face hard between my legs.

  My head lifts and slams back into the carpet, tendrils of blonde falling across my face as his tongue extends and probes into the damp hole of my pussy. I clench my muscles and tighten myself around him, purring and twisting on the floor calling “Deacon, Deacon” over and over.

  He holds the top of my thighs and presses my legs even wider apart to jam more of his tongue inside me. He pulls back and works up my inner lips, tongue pausing to flick and circle my engorged clit. I pant, barely able to breathe let alone summon the energy to speak.

  I clutch at his hair, pull him into me, my back coming off the carpet hot and sweaty.

  I curse at the ceiling, curse at the intense pleasure and sensation swimming upwards to my core from my clit, my hole wide and open desperate to be stuffed and filled.

  He works the hood of my clit up with his thumb, his tongue shifting and pressing constantly against the tender nub until I’m not sure how much more I can take.

  I want to come, I want to come more than anything, but I want to do so with him inside me. It’s been a week, all the sexual energy is about to overflow, and I’m scared, fucking terrified that when the flood does arrive I’ll be swept away, struck down by its intensity.

  With a murmur of satisfaction his head lifts from the hot space between my legs. He looks up at me with puppy dog eyes, chin and lips wet with my desire.

  I need a distraction. I sit up and kneel forward, pushing him back and taking hold of his rigid member, surprised at the heat coming from it and the pearl of pre-cum that hovers on its head.

  He throws his head back. “Yes, baby. I want to feel your mouth on me.” He’s shaking, quivering in anticipation of what that cock will feel like in my mouth, my pussy. “This is for saving my life,” I tell him, right before I place my lips over the head of his cock and take him deep.

  His hands lock against
the side of my head, his buttocks hard and firm.

  I work my tongue around his velvety, salty shaft, sucking and licking until he’s thrusting forward to match, to fill more of my mouth.

  I hold my tongue flat and let him saw across its soft surface, letting him do the work as he starts to enter my throat.

  If there’s one thing all the training we’ve been doing has gifted me with, it’s the ability to hold my breath. I take him deep into my throat, clench the muscles vice-tight around his shaft until he’s grunting and groaning above me barely able to hold himself off. His balls tickle my chin, pressed against my face as my lips close around the root of his cock and I take his entire length.

  “Holy shit,” he announces, his cock settled comfortably in my throat.

  I let out a soft vibration and he stiffens, but I don’t want him to come yet, no.

  I pull him free, a bridge of spittle expanding and then sinking away between us as I turn and kneel away from him, my ass out and my pussy open and wet in front of his eyes.

  I lower my cheek to the carpet and bend my back, beg him to enter me.

  It’s all the invitation he needs. He angles his cock down towards my pussy and drives deep from the very first stroke. Holding my cheeks, he doesn’t hold back, filling me completely.

  He lets out something halfway between a whimper and an exclamation, drawing out and driving back in harder, crushing himself against my tender lips.

  “Uh,” I grunt, face sliding against the carpet, hands pressed out either side of my head against the onslaught.

  This is what I’ve been missing, that deep and all-fulfilling feeling only a hard cock can provide. Only Deacon’s hard cock.

  Deacon fucks me with everything he has, somehow finding places I never even knew existed inside me. My core clenches and releases. I build, drawing closer and closer to climax as the scent of our bodies coming together overpowers everything.

  “Fuck me,” I mutter, voice as wet and lusty as the hunger between my legs. One of my hands snakes beneath me to strum at my clit.

  Deacon lifts himself higher and fists my hair in his hand, lifting me from the floor, the burn of the carpet is hot on my cheek, but I barely notice it.

  Poised over my back, he angles himself and drives deeper still, his cock bent inside my body and pressing right against my g-spot.

  I move against him, my hips gyrating and sucking his member in. “Fuck me,” I plead, eyes pressed tight together to stave off my impending orgasm.

  The floorboards whine under my knees as I’m hammered, Deacon’s giant cock sluicing in and out of my open pussy and sending bolts of electricity jumping from the polar ends of my body.

  My mouth opens as wide as it will go, jaw strained, my scalp pulling with the hair in his hand.

  An idea strikes me, something I’ve always wanted to try but never had the trust for with any previous partner.

  “My ass,” I manage to stammer. “Put it in my ass.”

  A wet thumb presses against the tight cherry of my anus and pushes inside. I’m flooded again with fresh, powerful arousal.

  The thumb removed, Deacon pulls out of my pussy and presses the head of his cock against my ass, shifting high above me before drilling downwards.

  I’ve never felt anything like it, a loud and lengthy moan leaving my mouth as his prick easily slides past the hot grip of my sphincter and deep into my ass. It’s incredible, a feeling of fulfilment beyond any I have known, the taboo and sudden act taking me by surprise.

  He grunts at my tightness, drawing out before plunging down again deeper still, my mouth locked open in a silent ring.

  His cock is in your ass.

  The thought pushes me over the edge.

  My head floats. I’m starved of oxygen. A sudden explosion of energy snaps my spine. I feel like I’m going to be broken in two it’s so powerful, barely managing to keep my jaw open as my entire body draws tight and convulses, the climax so powerful all I can see are dots, fissures of light, a strange ringing sound in my ears.

  My ass grabs at the hard cock inside it, squeezing and releasing out of my control. Deacon lets go of my hair and crushes himself against me, his release flowing hot and fast.

  When he pulls away I collapse to the floor, completely spent. He has to carry me to the shower, hold me in position like an invalid while he soaps and cleans my body.

  Naked, dry, I seat myself on the edge of his bed. He lies beside me, cock flat against his chest.

  “You look exhausted,” I note.

  He lifts himself onto his elbows and I’m struck with a sudden burst of energy.

  I swing myself over him, settle into his lap. He’s firm again. I can tell by the way he presses against me. He’s hard as iron as I rock back and forth.

  He leans forward and sucks a nipple into his mouth, sucking until it’s a tight bud. His cock swells against my pussy as he does so. I rock up and test its give with the cum-slick flesh already so sensitive there.

  I reach down and position him at my hole, settling onto my knees as his cock sinks deep inside me once more.

  He continues to suck even as I press my tongue into his ear. He shifts my hips and I take him deeper and deeper until I feel his cock slippery and thick in my most private parts.

  “Can you come inside me, or are you all out?” I question.

  He laughs. “For you, baby, I’m never out.”

  He lifts me easily, cradling my head as he lays me onto the bed, the mattress firm under my back.

  His next thrust comes so forcefully I slide halfway up the bed. I lift my hips and he powers into me again, grunting, relentless, filling me with a violent, desperate need I have never experienced before.

  We collide again, over and over, his fingers slipping to grasp the flesh of my hips, holding me still as he drives into me with a series of hard, bruising thrusts.

  “Deacon,” I moan. I spread my knees as wide as I’m able. I want so desperately to feel his cum shooting deep into my pussy, pulsing at the end of me. I want that deeper, secondary connection. I need it more than I’ve needed anything.

  I manage to flip us over and take hold of his shoulders, bearing down on his dick with my full weight. He thrusts upwards when the connection is lost, jerking in frantic desperation to find his next release.

  I bear down on his cock, plunge myself up and down, taking as much of him as I possibly can with each stroke until the soft down of his balls brush against my freshly fucked asshole. It’s this small sensation that’s my undoing.

  My climax hits me as I’m headed down, he kicks back up into me, tight and tense.

  He comes and I feel it—a warm gush.

  My pussy grips and releases him, drinks his cock down to its very last drop, the fresh cum adding to the orgasm before and the countless orgasms to come, my hair as sweat-slicked and wet as the space between my legs, my mouth stuck in a perpetual oval.

  We spasm one last time together, a chill, his eyes wide and wondrous looking up to me before I stand on shaky legs on the bed. I stand above him panting, my hair tangled and messy, my sex splayed open. “Was that Hollywood enough for you?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DEACON

  Razor arrived home late, but not before Lux and I made good use of the claw bath down the back. She even managed to proposition me in the middle of night, the two of us trying to keep our voices down for once, screwing like a couple of horny teenagers.

  The storm never arrived, the sun’s up and day is looking to be a stunner. It feels strange to be sitting at the breakfast table without Bo, but, as they say, life goes on.

  Lux is tucking into the bacon. I like that. I like a girl who eats. “They say this low that’s coming is once in a century.”

  I look to Razor. “Do they?”

  She’s clearly excited. “What do you think? Will Shipstern be big?”

  I cut my toast down the middle. “It will be big, huge, if you can handle it.”

  “Oh, I can handle it,” she winks.
<
br />   “We’ve trained for this. You want to do your pop proud and we’re going to make it happen. After that, we make arrangements to get out of Finke, start over again.”

  “What about Bo? You’re not worried, after…” says Razor, busy shoveling in a forkful of egg. I cut him a ‘shut the fuck up.’

  Lux shakes her head, popping more bacon in her mouth, her tongue coming up and tucking it inside. “I know you guys have my back.”

  I straighten up. “Don’t give me an excuse to do mouth-to-mouth on you again.”

  A vision of her sucking my cock wipes everything away, the way her lips closed around the head, tongue lashing my glans. I’ve had blowjobs before, but that…

  “What about you, Razor?” she says. “You ever get scared out there?”

  He laughs. “I’m the fucking king of the ocean, baby, King fucking Triton.”

  “Where’s your trident then?”

  He holds up three fingers spanned out in ‘the shocker.’ “Two for the pink, one for the stink.”

  I shake my head. “You are a fucking disgrace.”

  Razor goes back to eating his breakfast. “I won’t argue with that, but given all the rumpy-pumpy I’ve heard coming from you two lately, I don’t think you can talk. I mean, Jesus, do you know how hard it is to find ear plugs in this town?”

  I exchange a look with Lux. Perhaps we have been a little loud lately. I address Razor. “There’s no one in town that’s caught your eye? I bet Sarah could do with a good roll in the hay.”

  Razor chokes on his food, spluttering it out and coughing. “No. Just no.”

  There’s a loud knock on the door.

  Razor stands and walks to the curtain beside it, pulling it aside and looking out. “Speak of the devil.”

  He opens it. “Sarah, what a surprise.”

  “Deacon here?”

  “Aw, thought you were looking for me, hot stuff.”

  I head to the door. “Sarah? What is it?”

  “You’ve got trouble, Deacon.”

  “Trouble?” I question.

  “A group of bikers showed up this morning from up north, bad eggs, colors and all. They came asking about you.”