by River Savage
“Jesus, Liberty. You’re the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met. This gang is dangerous. You think they're playing? They know where you work. They know where you live. Will you take this seriously?”
“I am, dammit,” I snap, hating that he has to break me down. “I’m not trying to be difficult. My parents don’t need the extra stress.”
“Then I’ll stay here with you again,” he challenges, thinking it’s going to sway me.
“Are you crazy? I don’t need a babysitter and I sure as hell don’t need a replay of the other night.”
“Then go pack your bag.”
“Hetch.” My hands move to my hips, assuming the position as my father would call it.
“Liberty,”
“Hetch.”
“Liberty.’
“No.” I break the pattern, hoping to throw him off.
“Yes.” It doesn’t work.
“I’m not having sex with you.” I try again, but I think the only one thrown off is me.
“You think this is what this is about? Liberty, if I wanted to fuck you, I would have fucked you the other night.” The blow hurts more than I expect it to.
If I wanted to fuck you, I would have the other night.
“You know what, you’re an ass.”
“And you have a great ass. Quit getting those sexy panties of yours in a twist. I didn’t say I didn’t want to fuck you—”
“I’m fine on my own, Hetch.” I cut him off, not wanting to hear the rest of what he has to say.
“I know you think you’re fine, but you still have a busted lock, and at this time of night, you’re not getting the super out here to fix it, so you’re stuck with me. Now quit overthinking it and let this happen,” he orders in his special kind of way. Where I want to punch him yet bow down to him at the same time.
“You know what, whatever.” I roll my eyes and spin on my heel.
I’m learning fast that fighting with Hetch is exhausting, so instead of going back and forth any longer, I forfeit, knowing full well this isn’t going to end well.
Ugghh, stupid man.
Eleven
Hetch
Sterling: So you’re staying at the neighbor’s…
The text comes in from Sterling. Lighting Liberty’s darkened living room.
Me: Detective Bailey’s gossiping is worse than a fucking woman's.
I type back, not in the least bit surprised the gossip has already started down at the station. As soon as Detective Bailey and his partner, Detective Sanchez, rocked up to take Liberty’s statement and dust for prints, I knew they would draw their own conclusions.
Assholes.
Sterling: Dangerous ground there. Hook, line and sinker.
Sterling types back, but this time I ignore it. He can think what he likes. The last thing I need is to feed him with more ammunition because maybe he’s right. I may be hooked. More hooked than I’ve been hooked before and yeah, it fucking scares me but fuck if I can’t stop thinking about her. Ever since I woke up on her sofa, note on chest, I haven’t stopped thinking about her or her under me, her sweet pussy glistening for me. I know I shouldn’t want her as much as I do, shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of anything more, but the more I try to force myself to stay away, or the more she tries to stay away from me, the more I want her.
“Fuck.” I drop my phone back to the coffee table and groan into the scratchy pillow Liberty lent me and force myself not to go crawling into her bed. This shit just keeps getting out of control. Even tonight when Bailey and Sanchez were interviewing her, I wanted to hold her hand while she let them in on everything that’s been happening with Dominic and the crew he hangs with.
I don’t fucking hold hands.
Ever.
The need to take care of her is growing, especially now I know the crazy fucking gangbanger has her set in his sights. Ever since finding out about Dominic and his connection to Liberty, I’ve done everything in my power to figure out how to take the fucker down. As of today, I’m still coming up empty handed, but I’m not fucking giving up.
Deciding, for at least tonight, not to think about Liberty or how I’m going to take this fucker down, I force all thoughts of Liberty and her hold over me out of my head. It takes a while, and I’m about to nod off when movement down the hallway has my attention. I clock Liberty’s pink toes, but don’t let on I’m awake, unsure what has her out of her bed and back out to the living area, but intrigued all the same.
She bypasses the living room and heads straight for the kitchen. I shift a little on her God-awful sofa, searching for a better line of sight, only to regret my decision when I notice her choice of sleepwear.
Fuck me.
It’s not the ratty miss-matched outfit she wore the other night. No, this little outfit is for me. She’s silhouetted by the light in the fridge, her naked legs taking my attention first, followed by the pink, silk shorts which are barely covering her ass.
I repeat, fuck me.
She bends down, reaching into the fridge for a glass pitcher. My cock twitches at the sight, and to stop myself from blowing my load right then and there, I sit up and adjust myself.
“What are you doing up?” I ask when I’ve sorted myself out. The pitcher hits the floor in an almighty smash at my voice, and instantly I’m up off the sofa.
“Jesus, Hetch, you scared the shit out of me.” She reaches for a towel to clean up the mess.
“Don’t move,” I warn, but in typical Liberty fashion, she doesn’t listen.
“Shit!” she hisses, her foot rising up to pull out a shard of glass. I step over the mess, pick her up and place her on the counter top.
“Jesus, woman, you’re fucking drama.”
“I beg your pardon,” she huffs out in an undignified way, her scowl morphing from discomfort to annoyance.
“You heard me.” I don’t try to sugarcoat it. She’s drama. It’s whether or not I’m digging the drama or not.
Fuck me, I’m digging it.
“I did, but care to explain what exactly you mean by drama?” Her brows rise in an expectant stare.
“I mean every time I’m near you, you’re a mess. You have the worst luck.”
“Please, I don’t need you reminding me.”
I reach for the broom and sweep the broken glass the best I can in the pool of water.
“I can do it.” She starts to slide off the counter, but my gaze finds hers, relaying my order to stay put.
“I’m sure you can. You can also sit there and let me take care of you.” She retreats, not saying anything. The sound of the glass tinkling against the floor is the only sound between us.
Once I’ve managed to clear up most of the mess, I move back to her. Kneeling down and lifting her foot to take a closer look. Her pink toenails are what have my attention first. They’re almost the same color as her sexy sleepwear.
“I think you’re good, no damage.” I clear my throat, my thumb slightly rubbing at the smooth skin of her ankle.
“I could have told you that, Hetch.” I note the tiny gasp and the familiar glazing of her eyes as she tries not to show how affected she is.
“Maybe, but where would the fun be in that?” My hand travels up her leg, carefully caressing the smoothness, painfully memorizing her softness. Instead of pulling back from my touch, she rocks forward, drawn in by it.
“You always like to take care of people?” Her voice is thick with need, almost as thick as my cock.
“Not always.” I’m mildly responsive to her questions, but more fascinated with touching than talking.
“Then what’s your deal with me?” It takes me a second to think my answer over. What is my deal? It’s not like I’m interested in getting serious with her. Sure, I want to fuck her, but it’s as far as this could ever be.
Right?
“Can I get back to you on that one?” My hand continues to travel up her leg, careful not to push too hard. A sharp intake of breath has me halting, my eyes finding hers. They burn wi
th need, speaking to me, urging me to keep this going.
“You want me to stop?” I don’t know why I ask. I’m not trying to slow this down, far from it, but I still want her to be comfortable.
“Can I get back to you?” Her head rolls to the side, exposing the creamy smooth skin of her neck. It’s a smart remark; it’s also not a no, so I inch a little closer, my hand wandering over her knee, and up over her thigh.
“You’re gonna have to think fast, babe. I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to hold off.” Her pulse quickens in her neck. A slow growl forms in the pit of my stomach, clawing its way up to my mouth.
I want to put my lips on that pulse. To own it. Own what I’m creating inside of her. Own her need and her want. I want to lick at it. Feel it under my tongue. Revel in the fact I created it.
“Liberty?” I press. My fingers rest on the hem of the satin shorts that had me crawling off the sofa in the first place.
“Yeah?”
“This okay?” I ask again. My tongue flicks out, licking at the erratic pulse that’s driving me wild.
“Yeah,” she pants, her legs spreading wider. It’s all I need to slip my hand up her shorts and slide my fingers into the warm heat between her legs.
Fuck me sideways. No panties.
The soft moan coming from her lips tell me she’s into it.
“Jesus, never felt something so fucking good.” My dick hardens in my shorts as my finger hooks inside of her.
“Yeah.” Her head lolls to the side. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls.” I swallow her words, not wanting to talk about other women. Not now. Not here. Not ever.
“Liberty.” My mouth moves over hers as I add a second finger and pick up my pace.
“Yes?” Her eyes roll back, her hips lifting up to meet each stroke with need.
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.” Her head snaps back up, giving me the same attitude I’m growing to enjoy.
“Jesus, even with my fingers inside of you, you're still bitchy.” I’m not sure if I mean to say it out loud, or maybe I did.
“You did not just say that to me.”
“I think I did, babe.” I dip my tongue back in her mouth hoping it will shut her up this time. My play works when she fights for only a second longer before molding closer to me. Her legs wrap around me, digging her heels into my ass, and pressing me closer.
Eager to move things along, I lift her off the counter and carry her to the sofa. She doesn’t protest, not even when I follow her down. Knees to the floor, hands to her silky shorts, I pull them clean off her body and throw them over my shoulder.
“Jesus, Lib.” I sit back to take a better look at her. I know it’s only been two days since I got a glimpse of her the other night, but seeing her again makes me want to weep knowing I could have had this already. Could have had her.
“You could have had it the other night.” She takes the words out of my head as her eyes sweep down herself, assessing her body, not in the same way I see it I’m sure, but in a way that lets me know she’s comfortable in her own skin. Comfortable to tease me with her body and her words.
“I didn’t want to stop,” I tell her what she has to know already.
“But you did.”
“I did, but then you shut me out. Left me high and dry for two days.” I counter her accusations with my own. “I should punish you for running.” At the word punish, her pussy pulses and it takes every ounce of strength not to dive right between her legs and feel it pulse over my cock. “You like the sound of that, don’t you?” My eyes lock on hers, and I don’t miss the slight nod.
Yeah, she fucking loves it.
“Take your shirt off, Liberty.”
“Take yours off,” she fires back at me, taunting me. I reach down, pulling my old squad shirt off my back, letting it join her shorts on the floor. Her hand reaches out, running her finger down my abs and dipping into the waistband of my boxers. She glides them down my legs, freeing my straining cock from its uncomfortable position.
Expecting her to go for the main prize, I’m surprised and disappointed when she holds back, smirking up at me in some kind of challenge.
“You just gonna look at it? Or you gonna put it in your mouth and show me how fuckable those lips are.” I don’t mean to act like some depraved Neanderthal. It comes naturally. Especially when it’s been a long time coming. Liberty doesn’t seem too worried about my needs. The wicked gleam in her eyes tells me she wants to play.
“Careful, Officer.” It’s a gentle warning, one I want to address if she continues to play hard to get, but for now, I let it slide.
“Sweetheart, you’re skating on thin ice here.” I fist my cock, and give it a few tugs, relieving some of the prickly pressure.
“What’s the matter, Hetch? You don’t like a woman in control?” She lifts her satin top over her head, matching my nakedness to hers. My eyes track her body, giving me the perfect view of her. Completely naked, completely open to me, I draw in a breath to steady the unusual onset of nerves and memorize every smooth inch of her sexy body.
She’s perfection. Hair tousled, lips swollen. Creamy plump breasts, pale pink tips. I remember the taste of them on my tongue.
Knowing I’m not going to last long with her smart mouth and naked body, I step out of my shorts, kick them to the side, then press down on my throbbing cock and point it toward the seam of her lips.
“Open.”
“Say please.”
“I’m not fucking with you. Open your mouth.” We get lost in a stare off, both of us naked as the day we were born. Need flowing through me, want radiating from her. Neither one of us yielding to the other.
“Open your mouth before I make you… please.” She laughs at my choice of words, then parts her lips in a rather dramatic fashion. Not needing another prompt, I tilt my hips and guide myself into her sweet, sassy mouth. The warmth of her tongue and the softness of her lips as they circle around my shaft have my hands moving through her hair.
“Fuck, Liberty.” My grip tightens in her strands. A whimper strangles my cock, not in hunger, but pain. Instantly, I release my hold on her, but her suction stays strong, regaining back her control. It only takes two minutes—or maybe it’s a few seconds—but after a few perfect strokes, she finds a flawless rhythm and the tell-tale signs of an impending orgasm start to rock through me.
“Jesus, sweetheart. I’m not sure you want to keep doing that,” I warn, trying not to ram my cock down the back of her throat and blow my load before we get to where I need things to go. She doesn’t heed my warning; instead, she opts to suck harder, suck wilder. I last barely another minute when a soft moan from her lips vibrates down my shaft and through my balls, setting off one of the hardest releases I’ve ever had. Warmth fills my bones, noise fills my head, and by the time I’ve finished releasing the last drop of cum, my dick is ready for round two.
“You better be ready to go again, big boy.” She releases my cock from her mouth with a pop, looks up at me with the widest, most innocent eyes to ever fall upon me, and I know instantly, my normal one-time deal isn’t going to cut it.
Twelve
Liberty
I wake the following morning with an unexpected fright. A heavy weight covers my body. My hands are pinned above my head and Hetch is resting his thick, condom-clad cock between my naked legs.
Oh, shit.
Images of the previous night flick through my subconscious.
Sucking Hetch’s beautiful cock on the sofa.
Hetch returning the favor—eating me out with the same need I was feeling, before finally carrying me down to my bed and fucking me in ways I’ve never been fucked.
“Morning, sweetheart.” His morning voice is gruff, almost husky, breaking through the sudden onset of regret rolling through me.
Oh, my God, it all happened.
“Ahh, morning.” I try to lift my hands from his grasp, but his fingers tighten, letting me know we’re gonna play this his way.
&
nbsp; “How are you feeling today?” His eyes land on my torso, searching for any signs I’m in any pain.
While sex with Hetch did cause some discomfort last night, it wasn’t enough to make me cry out in pain.
“Better if I had the use of my hands,” I answer, trying to break his hold on me, proving my movements aren’t as limited as they were three days ago.
“You won’t be needing them right now.” He skillfully removes one hand, while keeping both my hands secured with his other.
“Is that right?” I buck again, hoping to knock him off kilter, but the truth is he’s too heavy, and I’m barely trying hard enough.
“Mmhmm.” The smug bastard smirks the devilish grin I love to hate before taking his cock in his free hand and running the thick head through my lips, then slapping it down on my clit.
“Ahh.” My back arches off the bed at the pleasurable sting. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I’m not sure if I’m pissed he’s restraining me or pissed he’s not giving me what I want.
“Fucking you the way I want,” he teases. My stomach clenches at his dirty promise.
“And you didn’t fuck me last night?” A thrill rolls up my spine and heat pools between my legs when his dangerous dimples make an appearance.
“Oh, babe. I fucked you. But last night was your way. Now I know you’re not in pain, I’m gonna give you a taste of my way.” He slaps my clit with his dick a second time while tightening his grip on my wrists.
“Your way?” From what I remember of last night, which is everything, I know he fucked me his way. Multiple times.
“Yeah, my way.” He changes strategy and goes back to running the head of his cock through my wet folds.
“What if I said I don’t like your way?” I raise my hips, seeking more friction. We both know I want his way, but I’m not going to make it easy for him.
“Then I would call you a liar.” He slaps my clit one final time before driving into me in one unforgiving stroke. Air leaves my lungs in a harsh cry. His thickness fills and hits the one spot I didn't realize existed until Hetch introduced it to me.
