Hard Pressed

by Kate Canterbary

  "My mom wants to meet you," I said as we lazed in bed, our breath still ragged and the sheets tangled around our feet. I rolled to the side and planted a kiss on Annette's shoulder. "She wants to come up with my dad for a weekend next month."

  She reached back from where she lay on her side, her palm grazing my leg. "We're meeting the parents?"

  Focused on tasting the entirety of her shoulder, I brushed her wavy hair out of my way and kissed my way around. "If you want," I replied, as noncommittal as possible.

  I was catching feelings.

  It wasn't a new thing. I'd been catching them right from the start. But those feelings were bigger now, heavier. They blew right past attraction and lust and orbited around love.

  Love. I was falling in love with this woman.

  "I wouldn't mind," Annette answered as she trailed her nails down the length of my thigh. It felt amazing, like a million tiny tingles rushing out in the wake left by her touch. "What did you tell them? About me? I guess I'm assuming you told them anything at all. Maybe you didn't. That's also fine."

  I dragged my teeth over the ball of her shoulder, nipping her skin just enough to draw a squeak from her lips. "I told my mother that I met someone," I said simply. "Is that all right?"

  "Yes, of course," she replied. "I hope it's not a problem but I haven't said anything to my family. We have a wonky relationship. I don't offer too many details. They find everything I do problematic anyway so I try to keep my distance. It's easier on everyone that way."

  My brain was still rattled from the last orgasm, but my cock didn't care. Nope, it was basking in the glory of Annette's fingers on my thigh—so close but also so far—and throbbing to life. With each pass of her nails, my body slipped into the old rhythm of rocking toward her softness, her heat. Soon I was stiff again, my cock hurting for the relief only she could offer.

  "Not a problem at all," I said through a grunt. "There's plenty of time. I'm not going anywhere."

  It didn't make sense that someone as devoted and generous as Annette would have a strained family life. I should've asked for details on her family situation but couldn't see through this thick fog of want. Should've pushed her to explain how a family could sustain itself with a principal member keeping her distance and rationing news of her life. Instead, I set it aside with a mental vow to revisit it later.

  "Good," she murmured, her palm sliding over my ass cheek. "I like you right here."

  I looped my arm beneath her, flattening my hand on her belly. Oh, fuck. I wanted to have her just like this, our bodies side by side and the sweat barely dried from our last round. I wanted to watch my cock shuttling into her and then dragging back, her inner muscles clinging to me as I retreated. I wanted to watch her tits bounce and sway as I thrust into her and feel the vibrations of her moans and pleas. And then I wanted to wrap my arms around her spent body and fall asleep with her.

  "I want you," I said, my words spoken to her skin. "Now. Just like this."

  I felt her nod before I heard her response. "I'm never making those kouign-amann cakes, am I?"

  "Maybe not tonight." I pulled her leg back to rest on top of mine. "But there's always tomorrow."

  I ran my fingers over her cleft, groaning at the rush of wet waiting for me. Her nails dug into my ass cheek, clawing as I circled her clit. "It's been five tomorrows," she murmured. "But I'm not complaining."

  She urged me closer, her nails scratching over my backside like the strike of a match. My cock twitched against the small of her back. My skin was pulled tight over my shaft, swollen and needy from root to tip.

  "Come here, Jackson," she said, patting my thigh. "Come fuck me."

  Canting my hips, I drove into her with one rough thrust. This angle was glorious. It was enough to bring those three little words to the tip of my tongue and I was only able to choke them back when I closed my teeth around her skin, marking her just the same.

  "Just like that," she said, her words snapping out with each thrust.

  I locked both arms around her torso, holding her close and still as I pounded into her. The minute she sensed my control over her body, a flood of hot, slippery arousal washed over my cock. She wanted me to play rough and possessive but she wanted me to cherish her while I did it.

  "Yeah? This is what you need, Annie?" I dragged my palm up her belly and cupped her breast, plumping it, circling her nipple.

  Her answer came in the form of a purr, her body shuddering under my grasp. Her inner walls fluttered around me like the wings of a thousand butterflies and it took every last shred of strength to hold back my orgasm another second. That was all I needed, one fucking second to pump into her before I let go.

  "I need you," she whispered. "You're all I need. All I want."

  Her words hit a trigger inside me, a place distant and primal. I pushed into her one last time, already brainless and on my way to boneless as the first spurts blasted out of me. Goddamn, I never wanted to leave this bed. The world could burn down around us and I'd stay here, buried in Annette. I didn't want the world to burn down but I was damn interested in staying here with my woman.

  "I can't believe I've never asked you this but," Annette started, her voice dreamy, "why did you get into law enforcement?"

  I pressed my forehead to her shoulder. "Annie, sweetheart," I said. "I can hear my pulse right now. I can't see straight. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for it. But I'm working on keeping myself from drooling all over you. I'm not sure I'm up for meaningful conversation." I squeezed her backside. "Not unless you're telling me how I rocked your world."

  "Oh, you did," she replied. "You rocked it so hard I'm hanging off the edge of the bed and staring at your police academy graduation photo."

  "For Christ's sake, Annie," I muttered, scooting back to the middle and yanking her with me. "You should've said something. You were damn near on the floor."

  "I did. Just now," she said, laughing. "I figure we would've gone over together so it would've been fine."

  "Yeah, fine," I grumbled. "All you need is me fucking you off the bed and then falling on top of you." Annette rolled away from me and smothered a laugh into a pillow. "All right, I'll tell you but you need to bring your sweet ass back here." I patted the mattress.

  "I knew you'd be a cuddler," she said, edging closer.

  I had a smartass response at the ready but discarded it as I thought better. "I haven't always been a cuddler," I said. "This is a new development."

  Annette nestled her head under my chin and I looped my arm around her shoulder. "Okay. Is that your way of telling me you want to talk about past loves or is it more a matter of learning how to stay warm now that you're a Maine-iac?"

  I kissed the top of her head but didn't respond for a minute. In my mind, there was no one before Annette and no one after. I was hoping to hell it was the same way for her. "Neither?"

  "That's a relief because I've gotta tell you, I don't know that I can listen to your greatest hits at the moment. Not after"—she swirled her finger between us—"everything. You might be in bed with me but that doesn't mean I want to hear about all the other women who came before me. Literally."

  I kissed her head again, a broad smile stretched across my face. "Same."

  After several minutes of silence, Annette leaned up on an elbow to glance at the clock. "I should head home. It's getting late."

  I blinked at her, silently wishing for another hour with her. It wasn't about the sex, although it helped that we'd checked that box more than once tonight. I wanted to be with her, talk to her while we fell asleep, see her first thing in the morning.

  "Sure. I'll walk you home." Annette held up her hand to protest but I swatted it away. "Don't," I warned. "I can deal with you leaving but I can't deal with you walking the streets alone at night. Say what you want about smashing the patriarchy and my toxic masculinity, but by god, I'm walking you home."

  Annette tugged her dress over her head, no bra. That sight alone had me half hard again and ready to throw her bac
k on the bed. Instead, I tucked my hands behind my head and watched her tend to her hair in my mirror. She was beautiful in the best ways. It wasn't the obvious type of beauty that anyone could spot from fifty paces. It was an easy smile and an easier warmth. It was hair that couldn't decide whether to curl or wave and did a little of both. It was thick, delicious thighs that parted like the pages of a book, opening to my favorite chapter. It was the quietly devastating way she took me into her body and turned my cock into her slave.

  "Okay," she said, meeting my gaze in the mirror. "I guess I won't chip away at the patriarchy tonight."

  "Thank you," I said, pushing up from the bed. My shaft slapped against my belly, still damp from her, still buzzing with pleasure. "You're sure I can't convince you to stay a bit longer?"

  Aside from the chest-clutching shock of realizing I was thirty-seven years old and falling in love after less than two months with Annette, I had it good. I'd never had more satisfying sexual experiences since…ever. My belly was full of sweet pastries, my body and soul were well-tended, and life could only improve if a certain brunette book mistress would stay in my bed long after the sheets cooled.

  Her eyes dropped to my cock, flaring when she realized I was primed for her. "Again?" she gasped.

  "Well, you're not wearing a bra," I said, lifting my hands and letting them fall to my waist. "And you're fucking amazing, so there's that."

  Annette gestured to the window, in the direction of the village and her apartment. "But I, um, I was going to…" Her voice trailed off as she glanced between my erection and the panes of glass.

  "You could stay," I suggested, my words as neutral as I could manage. It'd been almost a week since the last time I'd broached this topic but I wasn't trying to rush things. As far as I was concerned, I had Annette in a manner no one else did and that was plenty for me. I didn't require declarations or anything grand, not when I knew she was pulling herself out of a bad spot with past relationships. I had her now and the rest would follow. "You have stayed here before. It wasn't so bad."

  She barked out a laugh and covered her face with her hands. "That was a very different situation, Jackson."

  I coiled my fingers around my shaft and gave it a light tug. "Not different at all," I replied. "This"—I tipped my chin down the length of my torso—"is exactly the same. It hurt so bad that night, Annie. So bad. Do you have any idea how hard I was for you? How much I wanted to crawl into this bed with you and feed you my cock? How much I wanted to taste you? How much I wanted to touch you and hold you?"

  She stared at me, unblinking, as I stroked. Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips once, twice. Then a new purpose flashed in her eyes and she stalked toward me. She covered my hand with hers, learning my grip and rhythm.

  "My turn," she whispered, pushing my fingers aside as she dropped to her knees.

  I wanted this—fuck yes, I wanted this—but I didn't. I wasn't going to come in her mouth and then walk her home. I was going to keep her in my bed, filled with my orgasms and held tight through the night. Just the way she needed.

  I hooked my hands under her arms and yanked her back up. "No, I don't want that. Not tonight," I clarified.

  "I thought blowjobs were always a good idea. Kind of like bacon." Stricken, Annette edged away from me. "I'm sorry."

  Closing the distance between us, I reached for the hem of her dress but she pushed my hand away. "No apologies, Annie. Just stay. Please. I haven't done a decent job if you can walk out of here on steady legs."

  Her gaze pinged to the ceiling, the clock, the windows. Anywhere but me. I didn't know what it was going to take for her to trust her instincts. They were in there, lurking right beneath the surface, waiting to replace this doubt with action.

  "I never said my legs were steady," she whispered. "You've done a completely decent job. You've never left me with steady legs."

  I crossed my arms over my chest, nodding. "All right. I'll take that. But I've never fucked you to sleep before. That's a damn shame."

  Annette bunched her skirt in her hands, slowly lifting it up and over her head. "Then maybe it's time we try that."

  When her dress hit the floor, I lunged for her, tumbling to the bed with her above me. I rolled her, settling in the notch between her legs. My cock, that mindless servant, flexed toward her heat as I leaned down to meet her lips, lacing a silent "I think I love you" every kiss.

  17

  Dust

  v. To lightly sprinkle a dry ingredient such as flour, meal, or powdered sugar on a baked good or other surface.

  Annette

  * * *

  Brooke: Where can I get a complete Thanksgiving dinner in the middle of August?

  Brooke: I don't mean the ingredients. I'm talking about the fully cooked meal. Especially the goddamn mashed potatoes. I want to order it and have it delivered to the house. I could probably send someone to pick it up but I'd rather have it delivered.

  Annette: Harris Farms might do that for you in November but I'm not sure they're taking orders now.

  Annette: Why?

  Brooke: You wouldn't believe me if I told you so I'm not going to tell you.

  Annette: Okay. Sure. Nothing weird about that.

  Annette: Do you want to meet up tonight? We could go somewhere outside of town where people don't know us and they won't ask personal questions while taking our drink orders.

  Brooke: I'd love to but I can't.

  Brooke: Tell Jackson to take you on a real date. You two spend too much time fucking each other's brains out at his house.

  Brooke: I can't believe I just said that.

  Annette: Same.

  Brooke: You can't believe it because you think I say the first things that come into my mind. I can't believe it because I am now realizing I think two people can spend too much time having sex.

  Annette: Jackson is at a town council meeting tonight.

  Brooke: Boring. If I wasn't stuck here, I'd definitely get dinner with you tonight.

  Brooke: But you should go. It'll be fun.

  Annette: You just said town council meetings are boring.

  Brooke: You know how to have fun with them. Bring a flask, make a game out of it.

  Brooke: Better yet, make a sexy game out of it. Put on something cute and cross your legs a lot. You won't be able to walk right when Jackson's done with you.

  Annette: I do have some lemon squares here…

  Brooke: I don't know how that figures into my recommendation but go for it, babe.

  Annette: I was experimenting with recipes last night.

  Brooke: Is that something kinky? Because we can be friends and we can talk about sex but I'm going to need you to warn me if we're blowing past vanilla and discussing all the flavors.

  Annette: No, dearie, it's not kinky. I made lemon, orange, and key lime curds and then made different pastries with each one. I had a lot of assorted citrus squares left over when I was done. Jackson took the orange squares to the station this morning and I dropped the key lime off with the Mulcahey's house but now I have leftover lemon squares in my kitchen. I could probably bring them to the town council meeting.

  Brooke: I hope these assholes appreciate you and your squares.

  Annette: They do.

  Brooke: All right, then. Put on something cute. Pack up your squares. Go distract that man.

  Brooke: And tell me all the dirty details tomorrow.

  Annette: I always do.

  Brooke: I know. It's the only thing keeping me sane at this point.

  Brooke: That and the dragon blood I drink for breakfast every morning.

  Annette: That's beet juice, honey.

  I settled into an empty spot in the last row, my lemon squares on my lap and my tote bag still slung over my shoulder, and scanned the station's meeting room. This was the oldest portion of the station by hundreds of years and had once served as the town's courtroom. The wide plank floors creaked, thick beams bisected the ceiling, and it was said these benches were older than the sta
te of Maine.

  The room held no more than twenty-five or thirty people and about that many were gathered together in small groups or bent over their phones or newspapers. Owen Bartlett and the other members of the town council were huddled together beside a long table at the front of the room. I knew from past experience they were reviewing tonight's agenda and the list of residents signed up to speak during the public comment portion of the meeting.

  From the hallway, I heard Jackson's voice. "There's something going on out there. I don't know what it is but I don't like it."

  "I hear you, sheriff," someone replied. "But we might be fighting the wind. The fence coming down, the noises. Probably nothing more than some strong breezes that they're hearing now because the windows are open. They're anxious folks, ya know?"

  I leaned back against the bench, turning my head in the direction of the hallway to catch more of their conversation.

  "It's not the wind," Jackson argued, his tone firm. "They have every reason to be anxious. Something isn't right at the inn and I want eyes on that property every hour until I tell you otherwise."

  "Understood, sir," the other man said.

  "I have to step into this meeting now," Jackson said. "Update me in an hour."

  Still staring in the direction of the hall, I smiled when Jackson walked through the door, his hands fisted at his waist and a scowl on his face. "I'm here and I brought lemon squares," I whispered, holding up the container.

  "You're amazing," he replied, dropping beside me on the bench. He motioned for me to lift the lid. "You didn't tell me you were coming. I would've walked you over if I'd known."

  Jackson helped himself to a lemon square as I shrugged. "I didn't decide until just now," I said. "Is everything all right? I heard you in the hall."

  He licked the lemon curd from his fingers, his head bobbing from side to side. "Just keeping watch on a few things," he replied. "Did you lock your doors when you left?" I nodded. "That's what I like to hear."