Too Bad So Sad

by Lani Lynn Vale

  “Need some lube,” he explained, knowing what I was about to ask. “I can’t fuck you without it. You’re practically ruining my sheets with your juices, but I want to make sure your first time is good because I want to be in that ass regularly. To ensure that, I need to make this good for you and lube will definitely help that.”

  I had no reply to that, so I closed my eyes and concentrated on his slow thrusts, moaning lightly when I felt the cool gel trickle against my asshole.

  I would’ve frozen had he let me, but he was still slowly fucking me. In and out. In and out. Mindlessly he rocked those hips of his into me and I was getting closer and closer to the pinnacle.

  “You’re so tight.” He growled, swirling the liquid around my asshole and then pushing his thumb inside.

  I moaned into the pillow at the slight burn that followed on the heels of his penetration.

  “Is there any part of you that is normal-sized?” I hissed, making sure to angle my face up over my shoulder so that he would hear everything that I had to say.

  He laughed. “No, honey. Sorry. I’m from Texas where they make everything supersized.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re so stupid.”

  “You’re a pain in the ass,” he countered my words.

  I snorted. “I think I’m the one who should be saying that right now,” I wiggled my hips. “Seeing as it’s your thumb in my ass stretching it out like it’s never been stretched before.”

  Personally, I liked having his fingers inside of me.

  I had a feeling I’d adore it when his cock was in there.

  It was the buildup that was getting the best of me.

  “More,” I ordered roughly, pushing myself back to urge him to do something.

  His maddeningly slow and even thrusts were driving me crazy and I wanted nothing more than for him to fuck me like he usually fucked me—with wild abandon.

  Yet, I knew that he’d do exactly what he felt like doing when he felt like doing it.

  Tyler was in control—always.

  Something that drove me insane about him.

  His thumb left me and then was replaced moments later by two fingers.

  As he scissored them in and out, he pulled out of my pussy and reached for the bottle that had somehow made its way under my knee and became pinned there during our play.

  I bit my lip when I heard him slicking his cock up and moaned when his fingers left and his cock moved to take their place.

  “Ready?” He squeezed my ass cheek.

  I pushed back slightly, feeling that penis of his starting to press forward.

  “Been ready.”

  I held my breath and tried to relax my muscles.

  I’d read in quite a few romance novels that you were supposed to push out, which I did.

  I immediately regretted it because pushing out not only didn’t make it feel any better, but it also made more of him slip inside until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  My eyes were wide and by the time I felt the saddle of his hips meet my ass, I was on fire.

  Both my ass and other things.

  “I’m in.”

  Believe me, I knew he was in—I could feel that he was in. He didn’t have to make such an idiotic statement to tell me.

  He chuckled. “Sorry, baby. It’ll get better in a few moments.”

  I said that aloud. Whoops.

  But I couldn’t contain what I was saying because there was so much feeling going on in other places.

  Specifically, my ass.

  Tyler was in my ass!

  “God yes, I am. And it’s so fuckin’ tight.” He groaned.

  Still saying everything out loud, I guess.

  Dammit.

  Tyler chuckled and it was then that I realized that I was no longer experiencing that burn. Instead, it felt like an overwhelming sensation of fullness.

  He pulled back and I started to panic, thinking he was going to stop, but then he thrust back inside and then immediately pulled about half of his length out, causing me to moan.

  “Oh, God.” I breathed. “Oh, fuck.”

  It took me a few moments to realize that, as he fucked me, I was actually enjoying it.

  A whole lot more than I thought I would.

  Tyler’s hands rubbed my ass, soothing and encouraging at the same time.

  And then there wasn’t any more talking, there was just me and him, our movements and the way his cock felt inside my ass.

  He started out slow and by the time I realized that not only did Tyler know what he was doing, but that I was going to orgasm, I was already tipping over the edge.

  When my release pulled me under, it was different than anything else I’d felt in my entire life. Different than even the orgasms that Tyler had given me. This—an anal orgasm—was something that I couldn’t explain, but I knew that this wouldn’t be our last time. We’d be doing this again. Maybe not on the regular, but definitely enough so I could experience this intense pleasure again.

  Shivers raced down my body and my nipples peaked.

  My ass clenched down on his length so hard that I heard him curse up a blue streak and when the feeling of wrongness turned into a feeling of rightness, I screamed.

  Let’s just say that when we were both lying side-by-side moments after cleaning up, I had no trouble sleeping.

  I fell asleep and stayed that way for a solid eight hours, not waking up even when Tyler’s alarm sounded.

  Nor when he started talking to the dog of the bonuses he would receive if he learned how to pee and poop outside.

  Oh, and definitely didn’t feel that kiss on the forehead he gave me as he was leaving, or when he told me I was trouble and he had a feeling I was about to make his life hell.

  Because if I’d been awake for that, I would’ve confirmed to him that I was.

  Given him a little warning.

  I was nice like that.

  Chapter 12

  I would like to donate fat instead of blood.

  -Text from Reagan to Tyler

  Tyler

  “I’m going out to eat with a couple of friends from my old station,” I said. “Do you want to go?”

  Reagan looked at me suspiciously. “My dad won’t be there, will he?”

  I snorted. “No. Although your dad and I got along well, the two I’m eating with are a couple of guys that I graduated from the academy with and started with on the same day.”

  She looked suspicious but ultimately decided to go with it. “That’s fine with me. But, just sayin’, I’m not hiding what we have from my dad if he asks or happens to see me.”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t ask you to.”

  Though, I was worried about it. Not because I felt like what we had was something that should be hidden, but because I’d have to explain to the man that I was starting to fall for his daughter despite my every intention not to.

  It was a slippery slope and the more I tried to fight the pull of Reagan, the harder it became to resist her.

  After spending two nights at my place, she’d decided that it was time to go home.

  Which had infinitely pissed me off.

  Not only was she in a tiny cabin with zero security, but she was also away from me—and now I couldn’t sleep.

  I wanted her in my bed—permanently.

  But I still hadn’t been able to wrap my head around it.

  Tara had fucked me up. Made me think the worst, and question things I never would’ve been affected by before Tara had done her damage.

  I didn’t like the guy I’d become—this jealous man that was always thinking in the back of his mind that things could go south at any second.

  Reagan was a smart girl and she was nothing like my ex.

  She didn’t have a deceitful bone in her body and I had a feeling that if she was having a problem with me like Tara had been, Reagan would flat out tell me that I was too boring for her and leave.

  Yet,
I couldn’t get those thoughts to turn off. Couldn’t make myself stop being jealous.

  Kind of like now.

  All she was doing was eating a breakfast burrito and the men in the restaurant around her were watching her like hawks as she stuffed as much food into her face as she could possibly manage.

  Her mouth was opening wide and her moans were filling the air.

  My dick was getting hard just watching her and I knew that I wasn’t the only one.

  “Are you saying that you’ll go?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  Reagan shrugged. “I guess.”

  My lips twitched. “You guess?”

  “I was going to go do a little research tonight on a certain tree now that the moss has grown back, but then I’d have to admit it to you and you’d know to look. I’ve decided I’ll just do it when you’re not paying attention and take it from a spot where your OCD can’t get the better of you if you happen to spot a missing patch.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Then my radio squawked.

  “10-13 at Kwik Stop on Main,” the dispatcher droned.

  I sighed.

  “Be at my place at six,” I ordered, looking woefully at the rest of my pancakes that I hadn’t finished.

  There was no way I could take them, either. Not with the amount of syrup I’d put on them.

  “What’s a 10-13?” she asked as she snagged my plate and started working on my pancakes.

  I chuckled. “Theft.”

  She held her thumb up. “I’ll pay. You go.”

  Yeah, right.

  “Bye, baby.”

  Then I was gone, handing the waitress a fifty. “Hand the change over to her. Keep ten dollars for a tip, darlin’.”

  Then I was gone, unaware that the women in the restaurant watched me just like the men watched her.

  All of my attention was solely focused on only one woman—as it had for the last two weeks.

  What the hell was she doing to me?

  ***

  Later that evening, Reagan was laughing her ass off with the men at the table with me.

  I was also proud as hell.

  The group of friends that I called my own were brash, crazy and honestly hard to get a handle on. They were also very selective who they let into their group.

  Reagan, however, had made the cut.

  She was the only female in a table full of men, yet that didn’t bother her. Not even a little bit.

  After being quiet initially, one of my buddies, Craft—a thirty-year veteran of the Kilgore Police Department—had recognized her and drawn her into the conversation by bringing up her dad.

  Which, surprisingly, didn’t upset me like I thought it might.

  Instead, I was happy. Fucking happy.

  Why was I happy? Because I liked that she wasn’t sitting there, scared out of her mind to talk, because some douchebag made her think that it wasn’t okay to say what she was thinking.

  I didn’t ever want her to feel like that when I was around—or even if I wasn’t. I wanted her to feel completely and utterly free to say what she wanted when she wanted. If she wanted to tell me I was a dick head who deserved to have his scrotum skinned, then that was what I wanted to hear.

  I wanted her to feel safe with me.

  I wanted her to love me.

  I wanted her to…be mine.

  I was so going to hell.

  My feelings had changed in what felt like a heartbeat.

  The moment that I’d made her mine over two weeks ago was the moment that I realized I couldn’t hide what I was feeling any longer. I wanted her. I needed her. And I was going to have her.

  Unfortunately, now she was playing hard to get, reminding me around every corner that this was only temporary.

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure if at this point that was what she felt herself, or if she was just repeating the words that came out of my mouth as a reminder to herself.

  All bets were off, though. Slowly and surely, I’d reel her in, entwine her life in with mine and make her feel loved and worshipped while also not restricting her inquisitive nature.

  “So how did you meet ol’ Tyler here?” Corban Bryant, a twenty-year veteran and Texas State Trooper, asked.

  Reagan’s eyes twinkled as she turned to me.

  “He pushed me down in the mud,” she teased, her eyes shining with an inner light that was practically daring me to spank her ass.

  “You lie,” I snorted. “What she failed to tell you was that she was trespassing on my property and that she was stealing my shit.”

  “Moss. I was ‘stealing’ moss. And he made me give it back.” She sneered.

  The men at the table started to chuckle.

  It was my ex-partner, Dade MacIntyre, who said, “I bet he scraped off that entire tree where you took the moss, too. Didn’t he?”

  Reagan blinked wide-eyed. “How did you know?”

  She said it sounding like she was so in awe that I had to laugh.

  “Dade and I were partners for three years,” I informed her. “He knows me about as well as Rome…” I trailed off.

  “And there’s the elephant in the room,” Dade said. “How’s ol’ Rome doin’ anyway?”

  I shrugged and threw my arm around Reagan’s shoulders. “I don’t know, to be honest. Reagan and I saw him when we went out to eat a month or so ago. He didn’t look very happy, but I don’t know if that was due to the fact that he saw me, or that he finally realized that Tara was a vindictive woman.”

  “Probably both,” Dade said. “I saw him at the hospital a few weeks ago. He didn’t look any more pleased that day, either.”

  I wanted to ask badly about why Rome was there, but I chose not to open my mouth.

  Reagan, however, didn’t have the same problem.

  “Why was he there?” she asked as she dipped her chip into the hot sauce. The hot sauce that she’d poured so much butter into that it no longer resembled hot sauce as much as butter with a smidge of hot sauce added to it.

  “He was there with a little boy. Did you know he joined a motorcycle club?” Dade asked.

  My brows rose. “No. Which one?”

  “The vest said Bear Bottom MC on it.” He shrugged.

  If my brows could go any higher, they would have.

  “That’s the one that’s affiliated with the Dixie Wardens. In fact, I think they are Dixie Wardens,” Reagan said as she tapped her finger absently on the table as her face pursed in a frown. “Kind of. Janie’s grandfather is a Dixie Warden. From Benton, Louisiana. They branched off into a chapter in Bear Bottom a few years ago. Their kids kind of took it over, and then went and changed the name because they felt like they had something to prove, and couldn’t do it by taking the easy way out and taking their fathers’ MC name.”

  I grinned.

  I knew exactly who they were, because I’d almost joined with Rome.

  I was sad that he’d done it without me.

  Sad about a lot of things when it came to Rome, actually.

  I looked down at my lap where I was tearing apart my napkin, piece by piece.

  If I were being honest, I was more upset about Rome than I was about Tara. I missed my friend.

  A tiny finger poked my side and I looked to the side to see Reagan staring at me with worry on her face.

  “You okay?” she mouthed.

  I shrugged.

  Okay was a relative term. Physically, I was okay. Emotionally? I didn’t think I’d ever get over losing my best friend—a man that had been there my whole life. A friend since I was a kid.

  It was awful mourning the loss of someone who wasn’t dead.

  Reagan frowned, moving her hand to rest on my thigh.

  The move put her hand over what was left of the demolished napkin and I was forced to either remove her hand from my leg or stop tearing up the napkin.

  There was one thing that I’d never be able to do when it came to Reagan Rose Al
varez and that was disappoint her.

  I let the napkin go and then placed my free hand on top of hers while dropping the remnants of my napkin on the floor at my feet.

  She relaxed into me, but before she did, I saw the determination on her face.

  Reagan looked like she wanted to fix what was broken between me and Rome, but she couldn’t. Hell, even I couldn’t.

  There were just some things that could never be fixed, even if the two parties involved had been best friends since they’d learned how to walk.

  ***

  That night, on our way home, I got into a fight with Reagan.

  And it all centered on the one man who continued to ruin my life.

  She was repeating herself for the twelfth time when we pulled into my driveway.

  “There has to be a reason he did it. From what I heard tonight and what I heard from your sisters since I’ve learned about Rome, y’all were thick as thieves. Wouldn’t one of y’all have shared that y’all were both seeing the same woman? It doesn’t make any sense,” she repeated as she unbuckled her seatbelt and followed me out of the truck.

  I slammed my door and hit the lock button, then stalked up the front porch.

  “Reagan, I really don’t want to fucking talk about this. If I had answers, I wouldn’t be in the boat I’m in. Unfortunately, I don’t. I probably never will, because Rome never gave me those answers,” I growled.

  I opened the door to my house and found the damn dog lying on my couch, looking like he’d grown three inches in our four-hour absence.

  Every fucking day I woke up and took him outside, he looked bigger.

  He’d probably doubled in height since Reagan had brought him home.

  At hearing our entrance, he flopped himself over, rolled off the couch and then stood at attention, waiting to see what we’d do.

  Reagan walked to the back door and slid it open.

  Sarge—what I called him, not Reagan, since she still couldn’t agree on the name—went outside and did his business.

  Reagan didn’t bother to close the door.

  The moment he was done, he waltzed right back inside, heading straight for my couch again.

  I rolled my eyes, too upset to care if the damn dog was on my favorite piece of furniture and walked outside after Reagan.

  “I don’t mean to sound like I’m hounding you…” she started as she followed me down the dock.