The Way We Were

by Shandi Boyes

  If I weren’t wearing panties, and he wasn’t wearing jeans, we’d be ...

  No, Savannah. Don’t go there.

  “Pot-ooh-mmm.” My warning turns into a throaty moan when the front tire of Ryan’s truck hits the pothole with the precision of a marksman.

  “You’re mean,” I mutter in a breathless pant.

  I’m not game to look at his face, but I know he's smiling. I can feel it in my bones.

  “What? I didn’t do anything,” Ryan denies for the fourth time, a smirk heard in his words.

  My eyes roll skywards. He can deny it until he is blue in the face. I know he's aiming for every bump in the road. How? Because not only does each collision add to the heat between my legs, it makes the thickness in his jeans swell.

  “Did you say something, Savannah?” Ryan growls my name, sending his voice through my veins like liquid ecstasy, stimulating not just my hot buttons, but every goddamn button I own.

  “No,” I answer, my one word incapable of hiding my aroused state.

  Mortified at the lust-craved idiot I’m portraying, I attempt to scoot off his lap for the fifth time the past four minutes. I barely move an inch when Ryan throws his hips forward. I groan, heightened beyond belief when the mouthwatering outline protruding from his crotch rubs the sensitive skin between my ass and sex.

  I moan, practically purring. I’ve never been more aroused in my life. My clit is throbbing, and my panties are soaked. I'm equally excited and frustrated. I’m not frustrated by Ryan’s attention; I’m annoyed my clit doesn’t have anything to grind against. I’m sitting side-straddled, meaning, other than pressing my thighs together, I can’t ease the throb between my legs. See—torture. Pure, unbridled torture.

  Groaning in frustration, I burrow my inflamed cheeks into Ryan’s neck. Now matters are ten times worse. His scent is even more inviting from this vantage point. He smells intoxicating and familiar—a scent I crave more than anything.

  “Please stop.” The furious pulse raging through his body amplifies the thrumming of my core. “I can’t do this. I can’t be close to you and not...”

  I stop talking, mindful I’m crawling into a hole I may never get out of. I’m dying to taste him again, but I know from experience one taste will never suffice. If I have one, I’ll want another, closely followed by another. Is that something Ryan can offer me? Or am I simply praying for a miracle?

  Furthermore, is this what I want? I barely survived leaving him the first time. I won’t survive a second dose.

  “Do what, Savannah?” The raw huskiness of his voice excites me more. “What do you want?”

  “Nothing.” My disappointed breaths make condensation bead on his neck. “I don’t want anything.”

  My knees curve inward when Ryan’s truck rolls over the safety grooves in the roadside. The pleasing vibration lights up every inch of me, while also eradicating my hesitation. I’m panting, aroused and brimming with anticipation of what is about to transpire.

  “Ryan...”

  “Yes, Savannah,” he replies in an instant, his voice as rough as mine but a hundred times hotter. It is like ice cream on a hot summer day: heavenly. “What do you need?”

  “I need... I want...”

  My tongue darts out to clear a bead of sweat from his neck before my brain can command it not to. Any hang-ups I’m having evaporate when his taste fills my senses. Even his sweat tastes better than I remembered.

  After swiveling his hips to reveal I’m not the only one being led by lust, Ryan commands, “Tell me want you want, Savannah.”

  I contemplate a ladylike way to express my needs. It is a futile two seconds. “I want you to fuck me, Ryan.” I’m not the least bit embarrassed. I’m too drunk with need to register shame. “I need you to fuck me. Please.”

  My second plea barely leaves my mouth before Ryan drags his truck to the side of the road and frees his cock from its tight restrains. White spots dance in front of my eyes when his engorged crown grazes my aching clit. I’m in so much of a lust haze, I didn’t even register a change in position. My shuddering knees are now straddling Ryan’s hips, and my heaving breasts are squashed against his firm pecs.

  After slipping my panties to the side, he guides his eye-bugging member up and down my glistening slit, coating himself with my arousal. I grind against him like a nymph, loving that I’m on the brink of ecstasy while still clothed. Ten years have passed since I’ve felt this crazy ebb and flow sensation—ten lonely motherfucking years—but you wouldn’t know it. I'm as giddy as the teenage girl I was once.

  Recognizing that I’m five seconds from detonating, Ryan nestles the crest of his cock between the folds of my pussy. When he drives home, I call out, loving the burn of taking a man his size without preparation. It’s been a long time since I’ve been stretched this wide.

  “Fuck, Savannah,” Ryan groans, appreciating my pussy clenching around him. “Perfect. Nothing less than perfect.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to acclimate to his girth before withdrawing to the tip of his cock. When he rams back in, his second lunge is more brutal than his first. I don’t mind his aggression. Actually, it’s hot. For the near year we were together, Ryan never fucked me. We had sex, and we made love, but he couldn’t hurt me in or out of the bedroom, so fucking was a no-go zone.

  Don’t mistake my admission; nothing he is doing now is hurting me. It feels way too good to be anything close to pain.

  After securing a grip on my hip, Ryan’s other hand weaves through my sweat-drenched hair. His dominant hold aids in guiding me up and down his cock at a speed that drives me wild. I meet his thrusts even more aggressively, taking what I need without any hesitation. I’ve been dying for this day for years, so I’m going to relish every perfect second.

  “Harder,” I breathe out in a moan, my one word barely audible over our combined groans. “Faster—fuck me, Ryan. Fuck me.”

  His hot breath fans my lips when he meets my request with the determination of a madman. His pumps turn frantic, bringing the finish line to within an inch of my spent face. I brace my hands against the roof of his truck when his crown flicks the sweet spot inside me. The change in position adds even more stimulation to my overflowing plate.

  Ryan’s mouthwatering pelvic bone smashes into my clit with every grind, and the stubble on his chin grazes my breasts through my thin cotton shirt.

  “Sweet Jesus,” I pant, my tone spiraling as crazily as my mind.

  Ryan rocks his hips forward so effectively, my head grazes the roof with every thrust. I moan on repeat, loving the craziness of our exchange. We aren’t making love. We aren’t even having sex. We are fucking like two people who can’t get enough of each other—because that is precisely who we are.

  When a familiar tingle in my core becomes too great to ignore, I snap my eyes shut. Ryan tightens his grip in my hair, wordlessly demanding my focus back to him. As a bead of sweat glides down his cheek, he stares into my eyes. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t need to speak for me to hear his thoughts. He’s not just claiming my pussy; he’s claiming every inch of me.

  “Ohh...” I purr in an eccentric moan when the sensation gripping every inch of me turns blinding.

  While holding Ryan’s heavy-hooded gaze, I moan through the climax shredding my core as effortlessly as his promising eyes crumble the wall I built ten years ago.

  He grinds into me another four times before my name leaves his mouth in a throaty groan. The heat of his seed coating my pussy catapults my climax to a never-before-reached level.

  There's nothing that could take away from this moment.

  Not a single thing.

  Not even the flashing of police lights behind us.

  Chapter 17

  Ryan

  I slam Savannah's quivering pussy to the base of my cock. I'm not only ensuring she gets every drop of spawn still streaming out of my rock-hard shaft, I'm guaranteeing the flare of her skirt hides the intimate way our bodies are conjoined from the two officers app
roaching my window.

  Fuck—tonight turned out nothing like I had planned. The natural attraction that always bristles between Savannah and me was in abundance the past week, but with her spending more time running from me than talking to me, I was certain we wouldn't succumb to our desires for months, if ever.

  I shouldn’t have fucked her like I did. Even pissed that she puts her body on show multiple times a night for dirty old pervs, I shouldn’t have punished her with my cock. It isn’t that I want to hurt her; I just can’t control myself around her. Time hasn’t altered the facts. Savannah is my weak spot. Anything she wants, I give her.

  That includes my cock.

  She wanted me to fuck her. I answered her plea to the T. I gave it my all. Considering her juices are coating my balls, I’d say she appreciates my dedication.

  The walls of Savannah’s pussy clamp around my shaft when an officer taps his baton on my window. With the heat in my cab reaching stifling a good twenty minutes ago, I'm unable to identify my colleague through the steam-smeared glass. All I can see is the brim of his uniform hat and his partner’s gleaming white teeth.

  After drawing Savannah into my chest, I roll down my window as requested. If they weren’t aware of what activity we were engaged in, they sure as hell know now. There's nothing more intoxicating in the world than the smell of raunchy, out-of-control sex.

  "You need to move along..." The officer's words stop when his dark gaze locks in on my familiar blues. "Carter?"

  Benny, a thirty-year veteran at Ravenshoe PD takes a step back. He scans my truck as if he's missing vital evidence. Benny is a good guy. He was one of a rare few who supported me after my father’s death. Even with my mother taking the blame, things were rough for me the six months following my father’s untimely demise—untimely because it should have happened years earlier.

  What Regina said all those years ago was true: IA was all over my ass the morning following my gun’s dislodgement. My service pistol killed a man. In my line of work, you can’t get any worse than that. Benny, along with a few good officers like Regina, stood by my side the entire time. It was their dedication in ensuring I didn’t lose my badge that spurred my commitment to my job the last ten years. I wanted to make them proud. They said I did when I was awarded my detective role nearly five years ago.

  When I first signed up for recruitment, I loathed the idea of being a lawman. Now... I fucking love it. My job isn’t about weeding out the criminals from my town; it is about helping the community thrive. Ravenshoe has gone from an unknown town to a metropolis the past decade. I like to think part of its growth is compliments of Ravenshoe PD.

  By evening the playing field between corruption and legality, we’ve created a safe, nurturing environment for both families and business-minded people. With Col Petretti’s death last year, the odds are even better. Ravenshoe will continue to grow—especially with a man like Isaac Holt at the helm.

  Failing to find anything wrong with my truck, Benny returns his confused eyes to me. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

  My lips furl. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you, Benny?”

  Nate, his recently drafted rookie, chuckles under his breath.

  “Nate,” I greet, praying he will help a man out. He’s young. He understands that some things can’t wait until you’re in the confines of your home.

  “Ryan,” Nate greets back, doing nothing to aid me.

  After glaring at him in warning that I won’t forget how he left me hanging, I return my focus to Benny. “We’re about to head off.”

  "You done already?" Nate pipes up, pissing himself laughing. "We only got a call from a concerned motorist ten minutes ago. Shame on you, Ryan. Shame. On. You."

  If I didn't feel Savannah's lips curving against my neck, I’d get out of the truck and deck the smile straight off Nate's face.

  Benny’s eyes dart between Nate, Savannah, and me for several seconds before he finally clues in. “Oh... uh...well...we better let you get back to it.”

  “He doesn’t need any more time. Didn’t you hear him? He’s already done—”

  The remainder of Nate’s tease rams into his throat when Benny removes his hat to whack it against his stomach. He laughs even harder when he sees how red Benny’s cheeks are.

  “Don’t act bashful, Benny. You heard the rumors about Ryan’s fascination with strippers. That’s why we’ve been trawling these parts the past month. You wanted to see with your own two eyes if the rumors were true; now you’re acting too embarrassed to look.” He makes a long pfft noise with his mouth.

  I curse under my breath at the same time Savannah stiffens. I've known about the rumors circulating headquarters for days, I would have just preferred for Savannah to remain unaware of them. If she thinks they were started because I was investigating her, tonight’s exchange may be a one-night-only affair. Goddammit!

  After advising I have five minutes to move or be issued a ticket, Benny heads for his marked police car. Nate isn't as eager to leave. His eyes scan Savannah's body plastered to mine enough times the throb in my cock ascends to my jaw. I'm not only going to issue him every ticket he can imagine on his next day off; I’ll scrub his name from Brax's appointment book as well. His back tat will never be finished at the rate he is going.

  “Alright, alright. Don’t bust an artery,” Nate murmurs, incapable of ignoring my furious glare for a second longer. “Enjoy your night. It was nice meeting you, Savannah.”

  You'd swear he issued Savannah a warrant for her arrest for the way she stiffens. Nate has barely climbed into the passenger seat of his patrol car when Savannah clambers off my lap. I groan, hating that her heat no longer surrounds my cock.

  “You told them my name,” she murmurs more to herself than me.

  After throwing down the hem of her skirt and adjusting her disheveled shirt, she locks her wide eyes with me. With our fuck-fest launching my heart rate to a never-before-reached level, my shirt is clinging to my chest, and my hair is as damp as it is when I exit the shower. The sex was unexpected, but it was also...whoa...fuck... DAMN!

  When Savannah’s attention fails to deviate from my midsection, I follow the direction of her gaze. Her heavy-hooded eyes are narrowed on my cock, the glistening of our combined arousals revealing another fatal flaw of our night. We didn't use protection.

  Fuck.

  “You’re on the pill, right?” I return my eyes to Savannah.

  She waits for me to hide the evidence of our foolishness in my jeans before shaking her head.

  A ball of tension bundles in my throat. “You’re not? Why aren’t you on the pill? Who isn’t on the pill these days?”

  “Women not having sex,” Savannah fills in, her voice as loud as mine, her eyes just as wide.

  The panic in her tone should increase my worry. It doesn’t. Not. At. All. She’s got enough worry for the both of us, so I have nothing left to give. Furthermore, her admission that she isn’t having sex has me wanting to bang my chest like a macho man. I don’t savor the hold Savannah has on me, but I’m glad I’m not the only one struggling to contain uncontrollable desires.

  “Oh god. This is bad, Ryan. Really, really bad.”

  When Savannah burrows her head into her hands, I say, “It’s not that bad. There’s a twenty-four-seven drugstore in town. We can get the morning after pill.”

  My assurance doesn’t ease her panic. If anything, it adds to her worry... and makes her mad—steam billowing from her ears mad!

  "Well-rehearsed on one night stands, are we, Officer Carter?" She sneers my name minus the husky playfulness her colleague used earlier.

  I swallow the lump in my throat before shaking my head. “No. I just figured it was the smart thing to do. If you don’t want to take it, you don’t have to take it, Savannah. I’d never force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  Her lips quiver as she struggles to govern the moisture brimming in her eyes.

  "This isn't about forgetting protectio
n, is it?" I know she wouldn't cry about something so insignificant.

  The chances of her getting pregnant at this exact moment are slim, but I could never be so lucky to have her tied to me for life.

  After raking her teeth over her bottom lip, Savannah shakes her head.

  “What is it then, Savannah? You can tell me anything.”

  I lean over to brush a rogue tear off her cheek, tripling my guarantee without words. Nothing she could say would shock me more than when I walked into Vipers two weeks ago and saw her on the main stage. Even with her honey-colored hair covered by a chocolate wig, I recognized her in an instant. A million decades couldn’t erase her dimpled grin from my mind, let alone ten painstaking years.

  I loathe that Savannah works at Vipers, but I hate that she doesn’t trust me even more than that. Alex didn’t unearth any additional information on Savannah’s whereabouts the past decade than I already knew—she was basically nonexistent—but it was the events following our initial contact causing my biggest worry.

  The scant information Alex shared about “Abby Rowe” changed the course of my investigation. Her record was as sparse as Savannah’s has been the past decade, but it did unearth her employee: Pete Chester, owner of Vipers Strip Club. That’s how I discovered Savannah was using an alias.

  If that wasn’t daunting enough, within hours of me requesting information on Savannah from Alex, I received a call from a US Marshall in Montana. He was also seeking information on a Savannah Fontane that matched Savannah’s age and description—although his investigation centered around the previous few years, not a decade. He explained that the details of his case couldn’t be shared, but he would pass on his appreciation for my assistance to my superiors.