by Penny Dee
I’m in the bedroom I share with Jack—his old fuck room—and I am walking toward the bed. “No way!”
“Yes, way!” I hear my phone beep. “I sent you an article from the local newspaper. Gah, I knew he was a creep. There was just something off about him, you know.”
I drop to the edge of the bed. Officer Johnson is the insidious creature behind my four months of personal hell?
“This is unbelievable.”
“Nope, it’s totally believable. And you know what it means… it means, you can relax now, Bronte. I’m leaving first thing in the morning, and I’m driving up there so we can celebrate. This is such good news.” Her exuberance is infectious, and my cheeks break with a smile.
She’s right.
It’s over.
I can relax.
I can really fucking relax now.
“You’ll need to come back to make an official complaint, but we can drive back together.” She lets out a squeal of excitement. “It’ll be a mini road trip.”
The idea of returning to Nashville to make an official complaint against Officer Johnson is appealing, but the thought of leaving Jack stirs something in my chest.
“We’ll talk when you get here,” I say soberly.
“The cops will probably ring you.”
“Good. I’m ready to tell them whatever they need.” I blow out a relieved breath. “God, Riley, I can’t believe it’s finally over.”
Riley squeals again. “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. Make sure you get margarita mix.”
After I hang up from my enthusiastic best friend, I open the article and start to read.
Late this afternoon, the sheriff’s department confirmed the arrest of one of their own. Officer Dominic Johnson was taken into custody to face harassment and stalking charges. Officer Johnson stands accused of following and repeatedly trying to contact a local woman who he had met on official business. The offenses include unconsented contact, harassment, and stalking.
Since his arrest, several women have come forward to complain about his behavior toward them while doing his job. One woman complained that he seemed more interested in gaining her phone number than solving a break-in at her home. Another woman contacted our news office to say she found him ‘creepy and out of line’ when he stopped to help her with a flat tire and then asked her out on a date.
Officer Johnson has been suspended until the case has been heard in court.
It’s a small article with only minor details, but the newspaper probably has to be careful about what they say considering he hasn’t been found guilty. However, what it says gives me enough of an idea of what has gone down.
Officer Johnson hasn’t just been messing with me, he’s been messing with other women.
Relief and empathy meet inside me, but it’s a bittersweet feeling. Knowing it’s over is comforting, but knowing he’s been tormenting other women as well makes me feel sick. A coil of unease unfurls in my stomach when I think about him standing in my apartment only minutes after climbing into my room and taking a picture of me asleep in my bed.
I think about the photograph Riley found after he’d left and the words, ‘you’re next’ scrawled across it. I would bet my soul he’d gotten off on attending the call to a crime he’d committed and then seeing me so rattled, so scared.
Sick fuck.
I hope they throw the book at the creep.
My cell beeps with a new message.
Riley: Get ready to party, girlfriend. I’m on my way.
I find Jack in his office, and he smiles when he looks up and finds me standing in the doorway.
“What’s put that smile on your face, wildflower?”
I dance across the room to him and lean against his desk, handing him my cell opened to the newspaper article. Amused by my light-footedness and risen mood, he smiles as he accepts it.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“It’s an article Riley sent me. It’s about Officer Johnson.”
I watch as he reads the article, his dark eyes moving across the screen, and his brows pulling in as he absorbs every word.
“This is the officer who attended your apartment when The Poet broke in?”
“And he was the one who came to investigate the Polaroids pinned to my door.”
Darkness sweeps through his expression. A small muscle ticks in his jaw as he thinks about what he’d like to do to Officer Johnson. Inside, he’s a boiling sea of rage, but he hides it well. He remains composed, although the telltale signs are there. The black eyes. The tight face. The slight flare of his nostrils. “I’ll call Pinkwater, see if he can find out any more information.” He gives me a sober look. “But we can’t go getting complacent, baby. Until we know more information—” Jack stops because I’m smiling, and it makes him suspicious. “Why are you smiling?”
I wrap my arms around his waist. “Don’t you see? I can finally breathe, Jack. I don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
JACK
I have to admit the article gives me a little relief, but I’m not prepared to put all of my eggs in that one basket. Until there’s a full investigation into Officer Johnson, we can’t let down our guard.
I call Pinkwater, and he gets back to me quickly to confirm Johnson’s arrest. The case against him looks good, and he’s more than likely The Poet. Nevertheless, until the fucker is behind bars, I won’t let Bronte out of my sight. And if I can’t have her in front of me, I’ll keep the prospect with her at all times. Now is not the time to drop our game.
However, trying to get Bronte to accept that she can’t is another ball game altogether.
To shut up the voice of reason, she uses my weakness against me.
Her.
Namely, her lips trailing a path from my mouth to my jaw, along the slope of my throat to the trigger point below my ear. She’s trying to distract me and damn if she isn’t doing a fine fucking job.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” I growl.
“Good, then it won’t be a surprise when I do this…” She slides her palm down my belly to the growing outline of my cock in the front of my jeans, and desire heats in my veins. Damn if this woman doesn’t have me wrapped around her little finger.
But we need to have a serious talk about what’s unfolding. Bronte needs to understand that things aren’t going to change just because of one newspaper article. We still need to take precautions, but my little wildflower is determined this isn’t the time for words and carefully eases down my zipper.
I growl her name against her lips, but she simply smiles and glides her lips down my throat again, then down my chest all the way down to my Kings of Mayhem belt buckle.
She doesn’t play fair.
Sinking to her knees, she peels open my jeans and as she does, Bronte looks up at me with a bright wildfire burning in her lustful expression. She licks her lips, and I don’t need much convincing after that.
Her soft hands release me from the confines of my jeans, her palms making me shiver as they sweep along my erect shaft.
“Wildflower,” I say her name thickly, but it’s all I manage because the moment her lips find the swollen head of my cock, my resistance burns to ash. Instead of talking, I push my fingers through her hair and grip it at the roots, tugging, as she swirls her luscious tongue over the sensitive skin.
Goddamn.
With one hand secured at the base of my cock, she begins to stroke slowly upward while the other massages the heaviness of my balls.
Pleasure tightens in my pelvis, and I let my head fall back as it grows stronger.
Fuck.
Me.
I clench my teeth and have to inhale through my nose, so I don’t lose it. I’ve been given a lot of head in my life, but nothing comes close to feeling Bronte’s bee-stung lips sliding over the thick head and down my shaft.
One hand lets go of her hair to grip the edge of the desk until I’m white-knuckling because she’s sucking me like I’m a goddamn lollipop, and I don’t think I�
��ve felt anything so fucking good in my life.
“Baby, I’m close,” I warn. And I’m not kidding. Two minutes with her lips wrapped around my cock and I’m about to blow like a teenager. I can’t help it. She feels too fucking good. My woman is an angel, but she gives head like a devil. “Bronte…” I rasp out her name, but she doesn’t stop. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, my fingers tightening in her hair as I fight an urge to thrust deeper, faster, harder between her luscious lips. “I’m going to… fuck, I’m going to come.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when I start coming, but Bronte doesn’t back away. Instead, she sucks me into the warm well of her mouth again, and she drinks down the cum that hits the back of her throat, her hands working my cock until every last drop is emptied.
Lust blurs my vision as I drop my pleasure-soaked gaze to her. The image engrains itself on my brain, and I tuck it away for later use if ever I need it. Her on her knees in front of me. My cock on her tongue. My cum dripping from her lips.
I groan.
Ruined.
Bronte releases me from her mouth, and I guide her off her knees to stand. Wrapping my hand around her slender throat, I kiss her, tasting the heady mix of her and me and getting excited at the thought of being inside her later.
“Feel better?” she asks sweetly.
“You have no idea,” I reply, brushing my lips across hers. “Remind me to return the favor.”
“You’ll have plenty of opportunity for that. But just so you know, when you get back to the room, you’re going to ruin me with that big cock of yours before you do anything else. You got me?”
Her grin is as wicked as mine.
What my wildflower wants, my wildflower will get.
BRONTE
The following morning, we wake up late. True to his word, when Jack got back to the room the night before, he made me see stars with the things he did to my body. He took his time too, making sure I was good and spent before letting his own climax consume him.
But now, I’m late.
Realizing the time, I throw back the covers and rush to get ready for a job interview I have in less than an hour.
Because I’m not going back to Nashville, so I need a job.
Jack says I can work at the clubhouse, but I don’t want us to live in each other’s pockets. So Dolly has set up an interview for me with one of her friends who owns a bar locally. It’s only casual work until I find something more permanent, but it’s going to give me the money I need to remain independent.
Dressed in a pencil skirt and white blouse, I crawl onto the bed to kiss my man goodbye.
“Are you worried about the interview?” he asks, pushing my hair over my shoulders as I straddle him.
“Hardly. It’s just an interview for something I can do with my eyes closed. I feel as cool as a cucumber.”
He grins. His eyes twinkling with mischief. “Nah, I think you’re stressing,” he says. “You know, sex is supposed to help with stress levels,” he adds.
I smile, wondering where this is leading. “Of course, it is.”
“And you know I’m only too happy to help out.”
“You don’t say.”
He grabs my ass. “Damn, baby, you feel so fine.” He nuzzles his face into my neck. “And you smell fucking amazing.”
I push him away. “You’re a sex maniac. And as much as I want to indulge you right now, I can’t. I’m going to be late.” I kiss him on the nose before I crawl off the bed and walk over to the dresser.
He doesn’t say anything, simply pushes the bed covers off his gorgeous body. He’s naked, and his inked, muscular frame is huge and tanned against the white sheets as I steal a glance at him in the reflection of the mirror. He really is the perfect specimen of a man.
His hand slides to his groin, and I watch, fascinated, as he wraps his palm around his cock and starts to give it a leisurely stroke.
He knows I’m watching, knows my pussy is pulsing to the beat of his palm stroking up and down that thick shaft.
But I have my interview to get to.
As I put my earrings in, our eyes meet in the mirror, and he smiles.
Damn him. Trying to tempt me.
I glare. “It’s not working.”
It is.
“I’m not giving in to temptation. So, you’ll just have to keep stroking until you get your happy ending,” I say, then lick my lips. Last night that cock had been in my mouth…
No.
Job. Interview. Now.
Regardless, I know Jack isn’t going to let me off so easily.
He comes up behind me and presses a tantalizing kiss to my throat. “Will you think of me while you’re at your interview,” he asks, his voice husky and tantalizing.
“Maybe.”
His lips trail higher. “Will you be thinking of my cock?”
His attempt to stall me has me smiling. “I know what you’re doing.”
I feel his lips curve against my throat. “And while you’re talking to your potential new boss, will you be thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you when you get home?” His hands wind around my throat as his lips brush my ear, and my resolve begins to waver. “Yes”
“And when you’re thinking about what I’m going to do to you, are you going to get hot and wet?”
I already am.
“Yes.” I breathe.
His hands slide down to my waist. “And will you think about my big cock sliding in and out of you?”
My nipples tighten.
Damn my traitorous nipples.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Jack’s hand slides beneath the waistband of my skirt and when his hand cups the front of my panties, I gasp. “And will you start touching yourself under the desk?” His fingers sneak under the damp satin and over my slippery clit, sending desire soaring through me.
“Will you be thinking of this?” He dips his finger into my wetness. “Or will you be thinking of my cock fucking you hard as I take you up against the wall when you walk through the door?”
I groan. My knees weaken with want, and I tremble against his broad chest.
“Tell me,” he demands as his fingers find my clit again and begin summoning my orgasm with tight tiny circles.
Unable to stand it, I reach behind me to find his cock, but he presses harder against me, limiting my contact. “Not until you tell me what you’ll be thinking of doing to me when he’s asking you about hobbies and what you like to do in your spare time.”
He’s a beast, and I love him for it.
“I’ll be thinking about taking your cock in my mouth.” I moan.
I feel his lips curve into a smile against my throat. “And what will you do when you take it in your mouth?”
“I’ll suck it.”
“And will you make me come with your juicy mouth?”
His fingers are torturing me, and I’m panting now. I want to come. My body aches for the release, and my heart speeds up as I feel it coming closer.
“No…” I whisper.
“No?”
I bite down on my lip and shake my head because I’m about to come.
“Why?” he growls.
“Because I want to feel you come inside me.”
He groans, and I feel him weaken against me as the torturer suddenly becomes the tortured.
“I want you to bend me over and thrust your cock inside me, nice and slow, until neither of us can stand it.”
Another growl.
“I want you to be rough with me.”
He swallows.
“I want you to fuck me like a whore against the dresser.”
Those words are all he needs.
Jack spins me around and bends me over, pushing me onto the dresser and yanking my skirt up to my hips. He rips off my panties, nudges my ankles apart, and enters me with a rough, hard thrust.
“Is this what you want?” He pants. “You want me taking you like this?”
It is.
“You wan
t me to be rough with you.”
“Yes,” I grind out.
Growling with pleasure, he pushes his hand into the small of my back to hold me down, the thick head of his cock kissing my womb with every delicious thrust into my body. Splaying his fingers against my skin, he holds me still so he can get as deep into me as possible, grinding his pelvis against my ass. A satisfying pressure starts to swell from my inner depths.
“Fuck, your ass is beautiful. A fucking peach. And your pussy has me so fucking hard.” The thrusting stops as he slowly drags his cock partially out of me, leaving only the head nestled inside my wet cleft. With excruciating control, he eases back in so slowly, it is torture.
He groans. “Fuck, I love seeing my cock disappear inside you.” He pulls back again, and I feel every inch slide out of me. “Love seeing it wet with your cum.” Two fingers join the mix, sliding through the slickness to my clit. “So, I’m going to make you come, you hear me, wildflower. I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll cover me in it.”
I hear him.
And feel him.
Every delicious sensation.
He leans forward to tease my clit with his fingers, stirring the bud with maddening circles that leave me teetering on the edge. I grip the lip of the dresser and fall off the cliff as my body clamps tightly around him when I let out a cry.
“That’s it, baby,” he commands.
My knees go to jelly as ecstasy crashes through me. I grip the dresser harder as a full-body orgasm wholly possesses me, sending a bomb of bliss and warmth to every cell. Stars dance in front of my eyes and heat flashes over my skin, leaving me in a soft boneless mess.
I’m only vaguely aware of Jack’s growl. Only mildly aware of his deep thrusts and then the sudden loss of fullness as he pulls out of me and pumps his climax over my ass. Warm cum hits my skin in rhythmic spurts before he shoves his cock back into me, jerking and shuddering as his orgasm slowly fades.
His palms slide to my hips. “Goddamn, I can’t get enough of you,” he groans. He’s short of breath as he slowly returns to Earth.
Pulling out, he grabs a tissue from the box on the dresser and cleans his cum from my ass.
