I'd Rather Not

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  “Get on your knees. I want to be able to watch my cock get coated in your juices,” he ordered. “Fuck.”

  I did as he asked, rolling onto my belly and then going up onto my knees.

  When I went to put my arms up underneath of me, he stilled me with my face pressed into the pillows. “No, stay there. I like watching your back arch, too.”

  So I stayed there, face buried in the pillows, and wiggled my hips for him to fill me once again.

  He did, one slow inch at a time.

  “Goddamn,” he repeated. “It’s so much better than I imagined.”

  It really was.

  “Like sinking my cock into a hot, wet fist.” He growled. “You feel so soft and smooth. Like silk.”

  I moaned into my pillow as he fucked me slowly.

  I was so lost in the sensations that I didn’t feel his finger collect my wetness. I definitely felt it when that finger circled my asshole, though.

  I jolted at the new sensation, loving the way his raspy laugh filled the air behind me.

  “Take a deep breath,” he ordered. “I’m not going to fuck it…but you did say that you were interested.”

  I had.

  I would’ve asked for it sooner had I known that it was going to send me straight into an orgasm.

  An orgasm that pulled Pace right along for the ride.

  When my muscles clamped down on his cock as well as the finger that’d just barely breached the tight ring of muscles of my ass, I heard him hiss in a breath.

  Then I was too busy coming, hard, might I add, to notice that he was coming, too.

  His hands were clamped so tightly on my ass that I knew I’d probably be sporting some handprint bruises in the morning.

  Not that I cared.

  In fact, I quite liked the idea of having them.

  “When we’re recovered,” I said, wiggling my hips. “We’re doing this all over again.”

  Pace laughed and twisted his hips, causing my breath to catch at the pleasure that was still lingering in my body.

  I felt wet and sated.

  “What do we do now?” he asked, his hands on my hips.

  “I read an article about this on the internet,” I laughed.

  “They didn’t go over this part in the romance novels you read?” he teased, still pulling out and pushing into me slowly.

  “There’s never a mess in the books,” I breathed. “Sometimes they use the man’s release as lubricant for other things, but there’s never really a discussion on what happens—hence the reason I Googled.”

  He was starting to get hard again.

  Hell, I was starting to feel the effects of his slow fucking, too.

  “What did Mr. Google have to say?” he said, pulling out slightly and then pushing back in.

  I felt his finger once again at my entrance, and I started to bite my lip.

  “Google led me to an article from a men’s magazine. Basically, they suggested that we have a towel handy to catch your jizz.” My breath hitched when he thrust his finger inside of me, this time all the way.

  It burned. But it also felt really good.

  Forbidden.

  Wrong.

  But oh, so right all at the same time.

  He pulled back both his finger and his cock simultaneously, then thrust back inside.

  I moaned into the pillow.

  “Every time that I fuck my cock into your pussy, some of my release slides out,” he growled. “It’s so fuckin’ hot.”

  I swallowed hard, then bit the pillow as he thrust again.

  Then again. And again.

  And soon, with no willpower or control whatsoever, I came.

  It was luckily muffled by the pillow that my face was buried in, causing Pace to laugh.

  “Oh, baby.” He growled low and deep in his throat. “We’re going to have some fun with that.”

  Then his finger was gone, and his fat cock was taking me so hard that my knees were lifting up off the bed.

  And, seconds later, when he followed me over the edge, his loud growl of pleasure filled the room.

  Silence filled the air after that, the only thing making a sound was the rasp of our breaths leaving our lungs.

  “So. Goddamn. Worth. It,” he said. “Best birthday present ever.”

  I turned to look at him over my shoulder.

  “Your birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” I told him.

  “Tomorrow. Tonight. Whatever. Still, I’m counting it as my birthday gift.” He shrugged and pulled out.

  That was when I felt our combined wetness trail down the length of my thighs. Seconds later, it plopped onto the bed.

  “Huh,” he said. “We’re going to have to figure something out. Changing sheets every time we fuck is going to be a pain in the ass.”

  I smiled at his words, then closed my eyes as I asked what I asked every morning.

  “Jackson leaving you be?” I hesitated.

  “He’s ultimately left me alone,” Pace said. “It’s been quite nice. Pleasant, even.”

  That was good news. Very good news.

  “What time do you have to be at work?” I buried my face into his pillow.

  “Eleven,” he answered, his chest rumbling with his words. “I have two hours. I’m going to go run…do you want to go with me?”

  The idea of having to run with him was laughable. I’d done it quite a few times since we’d expressed our interests in running again, but within two runs he was already surpassing me so laughably that it was disheartening.

  But Pace was in much better shape than me, so it was understandable.

  “Come on.” He squeezed my ass. “You know you want to.”

  I did want to.

  I just didn’t like running when all I could see was his ass from a very long way away.

  I needed some running buddies that I wouldn’t hold back.

  I had nothing to say to that but to laugh.

  He pressed his mouth to my ass cheek and shuffled out of the bed, stopping only long enough to slip on his sleeves, then situate his prosthetics into place.

  I watched him go from my position on my knees, and closed my eyes, thinking that maybe I’d just rest my eyes for just a little bit longer.

  Eventually I got tired and rolled to the non-wet spot on the bed, and from there, I fell asleep.

  I didn’t wake up until Pace was gone.

  But I did see a Post-It note stuck to the pillow beside my face.

  “Had to go to work. Love you. See you tonight.”

  I smiled as I read the note aloud.

  Then pressed it to my heart before getting up and tacking it to the mirror in the bathroom.

  From there, I got into the shower, washed and dried my hair, and then headed out for my old place.

  It was time to finish getting the last few boxes.

  ***

  I opened the garage door and got out of my Jeep, slamming the door shut as I did.

  I was lost in my own thoughts when a slam and a crack had me freezing in place.

  I froze with my body half rounding the car, and stared at the box that was open when I’d for sure left it closed the day before.

  My eyes took in the rest of the boxes in my garage, which were also open.

  Hell, even my trash bags were emptied out onto the garage floor.

  I started backing away and reached for my phone.

  I didn’t bother calling 911, though.

  Maybe I should have.

  Maybe if I had, things wouldn’t have turned out the way that they did.

  Maybe if I had, life would’ve been different.

  Much, much different.

  Chapter 18

  All these youngins’ nowadays are only going to know Billy Ray by Old Town Road. It breaks my Achy Breaky Heart.

  -Meme

  Pace

  “Pace?” Oakley said in a shaky voice. “I think there was someone at my house
when I opened the garage door. I heard a bang and a crash before I saw the back door close to the garage. And all of my boxes are open.”

  I felt something in the vicinity of my heart give a hard thump.

  “Go back outside and wait for me,” I ordered. “I’ll call it in.”

  “I’m still outside,” she said. “By my Jeep.”

  “Get into the Jeep and back it down by the end of the road. I’ll be there in three minutes, tops,” I said.

  I heard her moving, and seconds later, her Jeep starting up.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m down the street.”

  I got on my bike and started it up. “I’ll be there in a minute. Hold tight.”

  Lachlan Downy Junior, aka Lock, my partner for the day, looked over at me with curiosity.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Oakley thinks that someone broke into her old house and started to steal her stuff. She also might’ve spooked the burglar. She heard a bang and saw the door to the back of the garage shut.”

  “Fuck,” Lock said as he started his own motorcycle. “Lead the way. I’ll call it in.”

  So that was exactly what I did, I drove and he followed.

  I heard his page go over the radio, and I also heard that Jackson was closest to the area.

  But he didn’t respond.

  Not that I expected him to.

  After hearing my name as well as my girl’s over the radio, there was no doubt in my mind that he’d stay away.

  Or at least that was what I thought when I got there to see Jackson disappearing into my woman’s house.

  “Fuck,” I said as I got off my bike once we’d pulled over.

  “It was fun while it lasted,” Lock said, very aware of the situation that had gotten me put into the same department that he was in.

  “Yeah, it was,” I grumbled as I waited to dismount before Jackson had disappeared all the way inside.

  We were off our bikes and heading in the direction of the garage door that led inside when gunshots sounded.

  “Fuck,” I said, pulling my weapon.

  Lock wasn’t far behind as we went into the house.

  ***

  “Tell me what happened again, slower this time,” the detective in charge of the case ordered.

  Oakley’s eyes turned to me once again, drew in a breath, then blew it out slowly.

  “I got there, opened the garage door, got out of my vehicle, and headed around the hood of my…” she started again, this time much slower.

  She was nervous.

  I could tell.

  “You didn’t close the door to your vehicle?” Detective Mox asked.

  Oakley shook her head. “No. It’s a Jeep. We have the top and doors off.”

  Detective Mox waved his hand for her to continue.

  “I had just rounded the hood of the car when I heard something slam down, I’m thinking it was one of the boxes in the front of the garage. I looked up under the opening of the garage door to see the door that leads to the back yard slam closed. Once that happened, I didn’t do anything else. I backed out of the way and called Pace,” she explained for the second time.

  “Why not the police?” he asked.

  Oakley’s brows rose. “He is the police.”

  Mox waved his hand in the air. “I mean 9-1-1. Why didn’t you call the police and not Pace?”

  Oakley just shrugged.

  “He’s my boyfriend. I guess I didn’t want to seem stupid,” she explained.

  “And you?” Mox turned to me. “Tell me what happened on your end.”

  “He’s already told you exactly what happened on his end,” Todd Masterson, my lawyer, sighed. “If you have no further questions that you haven’t already asked, it’s time for us to go. If you can remember, Mr. Vineyard’s sister was shot and killed today.”

  The news still jolted me in my seat.

  My sister had been shot.

  By Jackson.

  My sister had been shot and killed by Jackson—the one-man wrecking crew.

  Mox groaned. “I’m sorry, Pace. I forget that she was related to you.”

  It was understandable, really. Normally someone that had just had their sister shot and killed would’ve been acting a little differently. But, since my sister had been nothing but an asshole to me since I was a young kid? I mean sure, I was upset. But it wasn’t life-changing. It sucked—really bad. But life would go on.

  I just hoped my mother got her life together enough to turn her shit around and not end up like Bella.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “But I am ready to go, if it’s all the same to you. I’ve had a really long day, and I’d like to get some shut-eye. I’ll answer and re-answer any questions you might have in the morning.”

  It’d been a long shift, and an even longer day after the shooting. It was going on midnight and I wanted nothing more but to go to sleep with Oakley tucked into my arms.

  “Fine,” Mox said as he stood. “I’ll call you in the morning and we can set up a time to meet. I still have a few questions.”

  “Make sure that I’m aware of the time and place of said meeting.” Todd stood up and packed up his notepad. “Also, give them until at least ten in the morning. This is apparently the first day off Pace has had this week, and I’m sure you’re more than aware of what it feels like to be woken up early on your day off.”

  Mox grinned. “Sure do. I also know what it feels like to be called out of my bed that I’ve only been sleeping in for forty-five minutes to respond to a murder that was two blocks away from my house.”

  With that, Todd offered Mox his hand, and I helped Oakley to stand.

  “Ready, baby?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I’m so tired.”

  We walked out of the interrogation room and into the bullpen moments later. There weren’t very many people left in the large room, but there was quite a bit of hustle and bustle for the hour.

  Murders in a small town would do that for you.

  I spotted Jackson in the corner of the room, talking merrily with a couple of other cops, and rolled my eyes.

  “He doesn’t even look like he’s upset that he shot someone,” she grumbled.

  No, he didn’t.

  It was only after we were in the Jeep and driving home that Oakley spoke up.

  “I think they were both there,” she said softly into the wind.

  So softly that I almost didn’t hear her.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I think they were both there,” she repeated. “The door I heard slam? That led into the back yard. Bella was in my bedroom. The door was still locked from the back yard to the living room. So, there was no way that whoever was in the garage would’ve been able to get back in through the back door. The way I was positioned down the street, I would’ve been able to see if she’d come back inside the house either by way of the front door, or the garage door.”

  Oakley’s house was set up like a backward L with the garage tacked onto the house to the left forming the bottom of the L. There was the garage door that came in off the street, then there was a side door that led into the mudroom, and into the kitchen. Then there was the other door out of the garage that led to the back yard. The back yard had an entrance that led right into the living room.

  I highly doubted that Bella would’ve locked herself in, either. If she’d known that she’d been caught stealing, she would’ve left the scene. She wouldn’t have stayed and opened more boxes.

  She also wouldn’t have brandished a weapon.

  But, Jackson said that she had one.

  It’d been Oakley’s, of course, but it hadn’t even been operational. She’d apparently gone duck hunting with her brother when she was younger and had broken the shotgun that she’d used after falling over the side of the boat. It’d taken her two weeks, but she’d finally found the shotgun that had been submerged in a pond for all that time.


  She’d kept the broken shotgun for sentimental value, but anybody with half a brain could tell that the shotgun wasn’t functional.

  The stock was broken in half and swelled from being waterlogged, and the barrel was stained a muddy brown.

  Honestly, he really should’ve been able to tell that the gun wasn’t functional. I’d taken one look at it lying beside Bella’s body and had known it wasn’t capable of firing a shell.

  “My mom hasn’t shown back up yet,” I said softly. “But there’s no doubt in my mind that she was there. It was likely her idea.”

  Which I hated. My mother hadn’t cared whose life she fucked up as long as hers was easier.

  Hence the reason I hated her guts.

  I just wished it’d been her that had died in Oakley’s old house, and not Bella.

  Bella was still at least—or had been—young enough to turn her life around. But now she would never have the chance to do that.

  “Do you think she saw anything?” Oakley asked. “I mean, honestly, she couldn’t have left that back yard. She had to have been hiding in it or I would’ve seen her. I could see a pretty long way off. I didn’t see anything at all.”

  I reached for her hand and brought it to my lips.

  “I’m going to find her and talk to her,” I said. “And then I’m going to take her to the police station and make her talk to them. Because I have a feeling Jackson is playing a game that we don’t know the rules to.”

  “A game we don’t even realize we’re playing,” Oakley muttered.

  Chapter 19

  I think I’ve passed my best use by date.

  -Text from Pace to Oakley

  Pace

  We made it home, and I was thankful to see Ford standing at the house looking forbidding.

  “Your brother’s pissed,” I said.

  “My brother’s pissed,” she agreed. “Really pissed.”

  We got out of the Jeep and headed in Ford’s direction.

  We’d only gotten three feet onto the grass when my mother came sprinting out of the shadows of the porch from behind Ford.

  Ahh, so I got the reason he was pissed.

  Or more pissed than he should’ve been.

  My mother had a way with people.

  “Oh my God!” my mom cried. “That man shot my baby!”

  Before she had a chance to throw herself into my arms, Oakley stepped in front of me and blocked her charge toward me.