My body arched against his touch, so desperate to have him closer, to make him go deeper. I ached for him. Ached for every touch of his rough fingers, for every dirty word he threw in my direction. I lived for the thrill, and I only ever came for him. He was completing me. Fulfilling me. Making me the dirty slut, the perfect lover, the good girl housewife, he wanted me to be. I belonged to him completely.
“Spread your fucking legs,” he said, and I eagerly opened myself up for him, my naked cunt glistening with the need I felt for him to push inside me.
He moved his hand away from my mouth and I fought back a loud moan, reminding myself I needed to be quiet.
“Please, sir,” I begged. “Please fuck me.”
“You want to be fucked?” he growled at me, his hands freeing that big beautiful cock from his pants and stroking it for me. “You want to be used? You want me to take your body and make it into my perfect little fucktoy? Just have fun with you until I can’t fuck that pussy anymore ’cause my cock no longer fits into your sore little cunt?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Please, yes.”
“Good fucking girl,” he breathed. “Spread yourself wider. Legs open as far as you can. Let me see my pussy get wet.”
I reached between my legs with shaky fingers, pulling back the lips of my pussy to show him what he was doing to me. A little mewl escaped me and he growled himself, stroking his cock in long, angry motions that told me I wasn’t going to get it gentle. He was going to use me within an inch of my body, and by the time we were done, I’d be a pretty little mess for him, just like he wanted.
“Spit on me, sir,” I begged, and he grinned down at me before opening his mouth and letting his saliva dribble onto my pussy.
“Rub it in,” he ordered. “Rub that spit into your clit, my pretty little doll.”
My fingers worked to fulfill his order, and my body ached with need as I watched him stroke himself. He was pushing me again, letting me skirt the edge of my orgasm but never really letting me come, and it was driving me wild. I needed him to. I needed him to fuck me until my whole body resisted, until my pussy pushed him out because I couldn’t take another thrust. But he wasn’t letting me have any of it, not just yet, and it was driving me fucking crazy.
“You need to come, don’t you?” he asked me sweetly, and I nodded over and over again, hoping he would let me.
“Just once, sir,” I begged. “Just once, just for you. Only one time, I promise.”
“You only want to come once?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Right now? You want it right now?”
“Yes,” I said. I needed him. I didn’t care. “Please, sir.”
“You know I won’t let you come for the rest of the night?” he asked, and I kept nodding, over and over again. “Very well, doll. Let yourself come for me and remember this is the only time you get to, so it better be good.”
“Can I touch myself?” I wanted to know, my voice breathless and my body so very close.
“No,” he replied with a wicked grin, and I moaned in protest, but before I could say a word, my body pushed me over the cliff, pushed me into pleasure so intense I couldn’t say another single word. I came like I was meant to do only that, come in front of his eyes while he watched my body spasm, my pussy get wet and my eyes beg his for so much more.
“Such a loud little slut,” he told me affectionately, his palm caressing my cheek. “I love it when you’re loud for me, doll.”
And only when I was done coming, he pushed inside me, fucking my sore pussy until I screamed for him to stop. But he wouldn’t. He never did.
He just pushed past the pain I was feeling and showed me a new world of pleasure. Pleasure so restrained I couldn’t come, but edged instead until I thought I would pass out from the anticipation. He held my legs up, hooked my own hands under my knees and made me open myself up for him while he took what he wanted. He fucked me for what felt like hours. He used my body. He used me until he was satisfied, until he spurted cum all over me, pulling out once he’d filled my pussy and letting the last spurt go all over my naked stomach.
I lay back breathless, unable to stop the impending orgasm that ripped itself desperately from my body, moaning and begging so loudly for him I was sure we were making too much noise.
He pulled on my hair roughly, making me get on my knees and dripping his cum from my stomach. He forced my lips to his cock and my eyes to his, and grinned at me, totally out of breath and as sweaty as I was.
“Clean,” he ordered, and I let my mouth go to work eagerly, desperately. I cleaned him off and he groaned as I got all of it, licked off every last bit of his cum and then smack my lips once I was done.
We lay back on the bed, my body feeling fragile in his arms as he stroked me, his cock lying against his stomach, still semi-hard.
“You’re perfect,” he told me softly. “You’re the perfect little doll. I love you, Cleo.”
“I love you, sir,” I whispered back, but he flipped me onto my stomach, getting on top of me and binding my arms behind my back. I moaned, unable to take more of what he’d just given me.
“No,” he said roughly as I gasped into the pillow. “Not sir, not right now. My name, doll. Now.”
“F-Flynn,” I stuttered.
“Yes?” he asked roughly. “The whole sentence, Cleo, you know how it goes.”
“I love you, Flynn Masters,” I giggled, and he let me go, turning me on my back and kissing my lips, not giving a fuck that I still tasted like him.
“Good girl, doll,” he said, smoothing down my hair. “Such a good fucking girl.”
I settled into his arms, loving every second of being with him like this. They were few and far between these days.
“Think we woke her up?” I asked softly, and he looked at the baby monitor on the nightstand. The green light was on, but there was no sound.
“No,” he said. “Our baby girl’s safe and sound. Now come here so I can touch that beautiful body.”
I climbed on top of him, my eyes looking over the frames we’d filled the walls of my house with. Him, me, us, the baby. We were really a family now. He’d even given up a senior position at his firm, uprooted his whole life to move in with me. And it was perfect, fucked up, messy and beautiful.
Just like us.
THE END
BAD COP
A. Zavarelli
CHAPTER 1
Justice
In the grand scheme of things, Oak Grove is only a pinprick on the map. But life here is never dull. The smell of grits and bacon grease fills the air in Granny’s Pantry, the local diner. I take the only empty table in the joint- the one saved just for me- and Kelly ambles over to take my order.
“Morning, Sheriff.” She smiles. “What’ll it be today?”
“How about the same thing I order every day.”
She blushes, and I like giving her grief. She’s a pretty girl, but I generally don’t like to play with matches if I can help it. I have no intentions of stirring up trouble where I eat every morning.
“Just making sure,” she says. “You never know, one of these days you might like to mix things up a bit.”
The innuendo isn’t easy to miss, but I don’t acknowledge it. I’m not so hard up for female company that I need to chase after anyone that gives me the time of day. In fact, I’m not hard up for female company at all. Haven’t been since I came home two years ago and the town hailed me as a hero.
Life is all gravy.
Three more of the locals stop by on their way through the diner to say hello. They all ask me if I liked their pies. One of the ten that were dropped by my house over the last Memorial Day weekend. I tell each of them that their pie was my favorite and then send them on their way with a wink so I can sit back and enjoy my steaming cup of black coffee.
Granny’s is abuzz this morning with the sound of familiar whispers. Nothing else to do in this town, I guess. A busy day for me is when I have to go out and settle another dispute between the Cleary boys. Some
might say there’s not a lot of action being Sheriff in a small town, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I had my fair share of action during my eight years in the military. Now the sleepy town of Oak Grove is where I lay my head every night, and I’ve come to appreciate the quiet nature of my surroundings. Around here, I’m free as a bird. Free to do what I want, when I want. It doesn’t hurt that I have a surplus of beautiful women to keep me company either. Nobody grows them like Alabama does.
But as I eat my breakfast today, there’s something else in the air. Something that turns the coffee in my cup to mud and makes the hair on the back of my neck tingle. I can’t quite pinpoint the reason for my churning gut. Only, there’s an awful lot of gossip going around this morning, and I usually do my best to avoid it.
I shove my unfinished plate aside and ask Kelly for the bill. She waves me off, same as she does every day.
“You know it’s on the house, Sheriff. Your money is no good here.”
I wink at her, and she blushes again.
“Thanks, Kelly.”
I slip the cash into her writing pad.
“Take care of old man Hodges when he comes in later on today.”
She gives me an awkward curtsy. “Will do.”
I hotfoot it out of the diner before I get trapped into any more conversations or asked if I can fix someone’s car or boat or house. The cruiser is waiting for me just down the block, and I make a fast getaway so I can get on with the daily patrol.
There isn’t usually much going on this time of the morning, but today there’s a small crowd of golden oldies gathered outside the old salon. Edna’s car is blocking the fire hydrant, in addition to being parked halfway in the middle of the street. She really shouldn’t be driving anymore, but try telling her that.
I pull over to the side and turn off the engine to investigate the cause of this gathering. They’re all whispering, just like the old biddies in the diner this morning. But it’s the name in the wind that raises my hackles.
Ginger Duke.
At first, I think I must have imagined it. I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and I didn’t drink nearly enough coffee this morning.
That must be it.
But that isn’t it because one of them says it again.
“The nerve of that girl. Coming back here after she did her mama that way.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Mabel says. “I was the one who had to console her during that time. How could she not attend her own daddy’s funeral? She’s always been cold-hearted if you ask me.”
They don’t hear me coming, and to be honest, I’m not even really sure I’m moving anymore. If it were any other day, I’d tell them to move along. But it’s not any other day, and my whole world just tilted on its axis.
“What’s all the fuss about ladies?”
They jump when they hear my voice and swivel their matching blue-grey heads in my direction.
“Oh, morning Sheriff,” they say. “It’s that Ginger Duke girl. You remember her?”
“How could I ever forget,” I mumble.
My chest is tight, and I tug on my collar to try to get some air. I can’t remember being this unsettled since I was in a war zone.
“She’s trouble with a capital T,” Edna chimes in.
“I’m afraid I’d have to agree with you,” I answer. “So what’s going on with her?”
The door to the salon creaks open, and out pops a flaming halo of red curls. My gut fills with lead, and there’s no denying it now. She’s still just as gorgeous as I remember. Curvy in all the right places. An ass and tits that won’t quit. And she’s smiling at me with those honey colored eyes like the deadly snake that she is. Hell must have opened up and spit her back out because the devil is back in town.
She cocks a hand on her hip and smiles at me with a set of pearly white teeth.
“If you want to know what’s going on with me, Sheriff, why don’t you just ask me yourself?”
CHAPTER 2
Ginger
J ustice Grayson.
Now there’s a face I never forgot. But then again, how could I? I wonder if he still hates me, even after all these years. The memories from that night have haunted me for so long, sneaking up on me every time the loneliness comes bearing down on me.
I sometimes think that karma has had her way with me, and I’m sure that Justice would agree it was well deserved.
I play coy with him, but inside I’m petrified. I don’t know how he’s going to react. I don’t know anything when he’s looking at me the way that he is with those gray-green eyes. They are just as stormy as I remember. And just as bright against the backdrop of his caramel skin.
He adjusts his stance like he’s about to take on one of the FBI’s most wanted. All for little old me. I think this is it. He’s going to let me have it right here in the middle of the street and give all the locals a good show.
Only he doesn’t.
He gives me an easy smile instead. Like we’re old friends. Like nothing ever happened and he’s long forgotten those summer days we spent together. It doesn’t feel right. Or maybe it’s just not the way I wanted him to feel. Maybe I wanted to mean more to him than that.
I stop myself right there.
There’s a reason I came back to Oak Grove, and it sure as hell isn’t that. The last thing I need is another man in my life, stirring up more trouble. Especially the likes of Justice. But damn, I’ll give him this. Time has been good to him. Real good.
That Sheriff’s uniform has never looked so fine on any other man, I’m certain of it. And he’s not the teenage boy that I remember skipping rocks down by the river. He’s filled out and straightened up. He’s all man now.
A man with dark features. Cropped black hair and masculine eyebrows. His jaw is strong, and his body is rigid, and even if I didn’t know he served in the Army, it would be obvious. But underneath the starched fabric and the straight line of his posture, there’s still a bit of wild in him. The bad boy vibe that drove me towards him in the first place. I soaked it up like a sponge, and there are some things time can’t change.
Gray will always be a bit of a rebel. He can dress himself up in navy blues and slap a badge on his chest, but he’ll always be as wild as a snowstorm in July.
His eyes move over me, cataloging every detail. He doesn’t try to hide it either. He never did. That was the thing about Gray. He always had a pair of brass balls on him. Or at least, I’d like to think so.
We never did get that far.
“I guess I forgot to send the welcome wagon,” he says.
“I guess so.”
The crowd of old ladies gathered around us are snapping their heads back and forth like they’re at a ping pong tournament while they watch the exchange.
“I suppose this will have to suffice.” I gesture towards the group. “By the way, ladies, that door isn’t soundproof.”
They don’t look ashamed, and I wouldn’t expect them to anyway. The atmosphere has changed around here since I ran out of town after high school. I used to run this place, but now a cold front has moved in, and it looks like Justice has taken my place.
Normally, I wouldn’t care for the town politics, but I need the locals to warm up to me so I can build up my clientele. It doesn’t matter to them if I open up a salon right down the street. They’d still rather drive to Timbuctoo than come see the likes of me right about now. It’s not a good feeling, to have everyone hating on you that way. But I guess people make up their minds about something, and that’s just the way it goes. It makes me second guess my plans for the hundredth time in less than a day.
I need this salon to work. I need this whole plan to work. Because it’s the only plan I’ve got left.
“You aiming to do something with the salon?” Justice asks.
I give him a stiff smile. “Sure am. I’m opening it up again. New paint job, new name. It’ll be quite the undertaking.”
The ladies start whispering again, and I ig
nore them. It looks like I’ll be baking until the end of time to warm my way back into their good graces.
“You got all your paperwork in order?” Justice asks.
I swallow and nod. It’s funny how time changes things. The old Justice would’ve been breaking into this place with me in the middle of the night, but now he wants to know if my paperwork is in order.
“No need to worry about me, Sheriff. I’ll be doing everything by the book.”
He checks his watch like he has somewhere urgent to be.
“Alright then. Well, I suppose I’ll see you around, Ginger.”
“I suppose you will.”
CHAPTER 3
Justice
This morning, life was just a big glass of sweet peach tea. Come noon, it’s all turned to lima beans.
I finally have a gig that I’m happy with. For two years, I’ve been coasting along enjoying my life. The sun was shining, and the birds were chirping and then she walked back into the picture, and everything shriveled up and died.
“Sheriff?”
I blink at Mrs. Duke and realize I haven’t heard a word she’s said so far. Something about her pup getting out of the yard again.
“Did you know that Ginger’s back in town?”
It’s a stupid question, and I regret asking it the minute it comes out of my mouth. But apparently, even stupid questions have answers.
Mrs. Duke looks away and straightens out her blouse.
“I am aware. She is my daughter, after all.”
She seems about as happy as I feel over the whole situation. I guess that makes two of us. By the sounds of it, I don’t think Ginger’s been around to see her yet.
Most folks come home and stay with their parents until they get a place of their own, but not Ginger. She always was headstrong and stubborn. But I can’t think of where she’d be living since there aren’t any vacant rentals around this area. Mrs. Duke doesn’t tell me either. Instead, she gets back to the topic at hand.
Drawn to Him: A Romance Collection Page 37
