His Taste Box Set: The Pine Grove Complete Collection

by Hamel, B. B.

  Not perfect, but good enough.

  I meet Emma back out front and we head down the steps. We go past the cruiser and around to the side of the house where I have an old truck. We get in, I start the engine, and we pull out.

  Mitch lives in a small house on the edge of town, around the corner from Hammy’s Bar. The guy’s practically a regular there, or at least he used to be.

  We pull up out front. I know he lives here only because I’ve been here once before. He had a little domestic dispute with an old girlfriend a year back, beat the shit out of her pretty bad, but Dean made that all go away. Mitch never served time, but I did get a nice tour of this place back when we did our investigation.

  I look over at Emma and she doesn’t seem nervous. She should be terrified right now, since we’re about to confront a straight-up killer, but she seems completely calm.

  “What do you think?” I ask her. “Should we go the easy way or the hard way?”

  She shrugs. “Is there a difference?”

  “Probably not.” I open my door and step out. “Stay close.”

  She follows me up the short walk and onto Mitch’s porch. I bang on the door and ring the bell, but there’s no response. I glance at Emma and gesture for her to step back from the door.

  I bang harder. “Mitch Ware, open up.”

  There’s still silence inside. I bang one more time and I hear something, footsteps somewhere inside, stomping down steps.

  “Hold the fuck on.” That’s his voice inside, coming closer. “Fucking Christ, I’m coming.”

  I glance back at Emma as I pull the gun from my waistband.

  He opens the inner door and looks out at me, a little surprised. I keep the gun in my hand behind my back.

  “Hi, Mitch,” I say. “Can we talk?”

  “Chief?” He grunts, clears his throat. His hair is a mess and he looks like he just woke up, which is what I was hoping for. “You want to talk?”

  “Let’s talk inside, Mitch.”

  He stares at me and opens the door. As I step forward, he spots Emma over my shoulder.

  And his eyes go wide. “Aw, shit,” he says, and turns to run.

  I press the gun up against the back of his skull before he can book it out of there.

  “Don’t move, asshole,” I say calmly. “I don’t want to have to do the paperwork for killing you.”

  He looks at me, wild-eyed and afraid. “What the fuck, Chief?”

  “Inside.” I push him with the gun, shoving him in the door. Emma follows and she shuts the door behind us.

  Mitch’s place is a mess. There are empty pizza boxes, empty alcohol bottles. His couch is stained and the easy chair has a cat in it, dozing and bored looking. The whole place reeks of cat and booze.

  “Kitchen,” I say, not moving the gun.

  “What the hell is going on here, Chief?” he asks, pretending to be innocent. “I mean, we can talk, but you don’t need the gun.”

  I don’t reply. We head into the kitchen and I push him into a chair. The sink is full of dirty dishes and there’s a litterbox in the corner.

  Mitch stares between me and Emma as she slips into the kitchen and leans against the wall.

  “Who’s the girl?” he asks innocently.

  “Cut the shit.” I press the barrel of the gun against his forehead. “Let’s talk.”

  “Fucking shit, Chief. Put the gun down and we’ll talk, okay? Fucking Christ.”

  Slowly I lower the weapon but I don’t put it down.

  “We need to talk, Ware. And I need you to be very, very honest with me.”

  “Of course, of course.” His eyes dart over to Emma. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you know this girl?” I glance over at Emma and back at Ware.

  He shakes his head. “No. Never seen her before.”

  I sigh. “Emma, you know him, right?”

  She nods once.

  I reach behind me and slide the knife from its sheath. “Okay then. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” he says quickly, but it’s too late. I slash him across the face, catching his cheek in a clean slice.

  He screams, clutching the wound. It’s bleeding, but not too bad. I meant to go deeper, but oh, well.

  “Tell me how you know her,” I say.

  “Fuck you, aren’t you supposed to be police? You can’t do this.”

  “I’m not doing this as the fucking police, Ware.” I press the knife against his gut. “How do you know her?”

  “I saw her the other night, okay?” His eyes are wide with fear.

  I smile at him. “Good, good. And where were you when you saw her?”

  “The fucking Fast Fresh.” His eyes are downcast and his voice is defeated, almost sulking like a child.

  “What were you doing there?”

  He doesn’t say anything.

  “Mitch.” I press the knife harder. “What were you doing there?”

  “Go to hell.”

  I sigh and slice along his thigh. He groans and lashes out at me, but I slash his hand before it can get close to me. He gasps and falls over, hitting the floor.

  He rolls to the side and suddenly the cat from the other room comes running in. The cat jumps on Ware and claws at him, hissing like it’s possessed.

  “Fuck!” he screams. “Missy, fuck!”

  Emma stares, wild with shock. I watch the cat scratch its owner, not totally surprised. The poor thing probably hates living with this asshole.

  Eventually though, I walk over and scare the cat away. It’s not happy but it retreats into the other room again, leaving Ware on the ground, writhing with pain.

  I walk back over to him and kick him in the gut before rolling him onto his back.

  “Why’d you kill him, Mitch?”

  He groans. “Don’t make me.”

  “Come on. Just tell me the truth. You want this to be over? You want to move on with your life? Tell me the truth.”

  He glares at me. “The dumb fuck owed Dean Fish money. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  I sigh and shake my head sadly. “No, it’s not, but it’s what I figured.”

  I raise the gun, pointing it at Mitch’s face.

  “No.”

  I frown. Emma steps toward me, eyes wide.

  “What?” I ask her.

  “No,” she says. “You can’t just kill him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… that’s murder.”

  I snort. “This fuck would’ve killed you if given the chance. What do you care?”

  “You’re a cop,” she says. “We can’t… we can’t be like him.”

  “Listen to the girl, don’t be like this,” Mitch moans.

  I kick him in the gut again, but I don’t kill him.

  I want to. It would be easy. But maybe she has a point. I mean, if I kill Mitch, who’s going to go down for that killing? I still need to deliver someone to the department.

  “You got rope?” I ask him after a long beat.

  He stares at me blankly.

  I move the gun closer. “Rope,” I say again.

  “Basement!” he croaks.

  I nod at Emma. She disappears into the other room and I’m alone with Ware for a few minutes. He watches me warily and I keep asking myself why I’m not putting a bullet through his skull right this instant.

  Emma comes back with some cheap yellow rope and we get Mitch back onto a chair. I tie him up nice and tight, hands behind the back, ankles crossed. I test the bonds and he grunts from pain.

  His cheek is bleeding freely, but he’ll be fine. I wonder again if I should just finish this now, but I resist the urge.

  “Come on,” I say to Emma, and we head into the other room.

  “What do we do with him?” she asks softly.

  I shrug. “We’ll take him in and get him to confess for real.”

  “Think he’ll go for it?”

  “I’ll offer him some bullshit in exchange. Maybe just ten years
in prison instead of life.”

  She frowns. “Can you do that?”

  I smirk a little. “Probably. It’s Pine Grove.”

  She cracks a smile and shakes her head. “This town…”

  “You have no idea.”

  I kiss her and pull her against me. Mitch is in the other room, tied up, probably struggling to get free.

  And I’ve never wanted someone so badly in my life.

  I kiss her hard and she writhes against me in my arms. I feel her tongue against mine and. I know I need her, right here, right now.

  I want that fucker to hear me taking her. I want him to hear me deep in Emma’s tight little pussy. I don’t give a fuck about anything right now but tasting her body, so sweet and tight.

  13

  Emma

  He kisses me and we stumble away from the kitchen, away from the killer. My heart’s beating so fast I can hear it in my ears and I know this is wrong, this is messed up, but I don’t care.

  That bastard can’t hurt me anymore. He’s tied up in the kitchen and he’s going to burn for what he did.

  Rhett pushes me up against a wall in the hallway, like he’s too impatient to drag me into the bedroom. I don’t mind as he kisses my neck and tugs my jeans off my hips, hands all over my body, pushing up under my shirt to tease my breasts, sliding down along my ass. I’m buzzing and it’s a frenzy, like we’re almost out of time and we’re rushing to feel good one more time.

  I gasp as he slides his right hand down the front of my jeans. “Wet already,” he whispers. “You like watching me beat the shit out of that asshole?”

  I groan as he bites my lip. “Maybe,” I admit, and I know it’s true. I did like watching him hurt that guy. I hate myself a little bit, but that bastard would’ve killed me, and I like watching Rhett punish him for that.

  “He deserves what he gets,” he whispers in my ear. “You should’ve let me kill him though.”

  I groan as his fingers slip inside of me, stroking in and out, driving me wild. I wiggle my hips against his fingers and wrap my arms around his neck. His other hand grabs my hair and tilts my head back as his lips kiss my neck and his fingers work my pussy.

  I groan as pleasure and desire flood through me. I’m totally lost in the moment and his fingers feel like heaven as they stroke my clit and fuck my pussy. He knows exactly what I want already, like he was born to make me feel good. I groan and kiss his lips and I need him so badly it hurts.

  He turns me around suddenly, grabbing my hips and pushing me against the wall. He holds my wrists tight above my head and he kisses my neck from behind. I can feel his hard cock, straining against his jeans.

  “Fuck, girl,” he whispers. “You’re going to let me fuck your tight little cunt right here, aren’t you?”

  “Do I have a choice?” I ask him.

  He smirks bitterly and we both know the answer to that.

  It only makes me that much more excited.

  He releases my wrists and tugs my jeans down over my hips. He pulls down my panties along with them, leaving them around my ankles as he slaps his palm against my ass.

  I gasp and he unbuckles his belt, pulling his pants down and sliding his cock out. He spits in his palm and strokes himself as I watch him over my shoulder, buzzing with desire.

  I’ve never felt like this before, like I can’t wait a single second to feel him fuck me. I need his cock between my legs right now, right this second. I can’t move a muscle, don’t care who hears, who catches us. We’re in the hallway of a strange house and nothing matters but Rhett’s big cock fucking me rough.

  I groan as he slides himself deep inside my pussy from behind. He grabs my wrists again and pins me against the wall nice and tight, sliding himself in and out slowly at first, getting his cock nice and wet and sliding it deeper inside.

  I groan and wiggle my hips and push back against him. I want it all, every inch, every hard inch of his big, fat cock. He starts to fuck me faster, breath hot in my ear.

  “Damn right you need this,” he whispers. “You need my fat cock, you dirty little girl. You used to be a virgin and look at you now, getting fucked in a stranger’s house, so desperate for my cock that you can’t even wait to find a bed.”

  “That’s right,” I moan. “I’m so bad. I’m so dirty.”

  “You’re a filthy fucking girl.”

  “God, I’m so filthy. I deserve this. I deserve your big cock.”

  He fucks me harder, slamming into me. I groan and push back against him but he keeps me pinned against the wall. He’s taking me now, without any other thought in the world. It’s the most animalistic thing I’ve ever felt and I love it so much. I love feeling pinned and controlled, utterly and totally dominated. I can tell he’s just as lost as I am, and it doesn’t matter what I want anymore, he’s going to have his taste.

  He spanks my ass and slams himself into me. I moan and take his big dick. “You like taking me like this, don’t you?” I moan. “You like taking me, you big man.”

  “That’s right,” he growls. “Don’t forget what I can do. Don’t forget this pussy is mine whenever I want it.”

  “My tight little virgin pussy.”

  “Not a virgin anymore,” he says, growling. “Not a virgin at all. Now you’re filthy and begging for it.”

  “Yes,” I gasp. “Oh, god, yes.”

  He fucks me fast and rough. There’s nothing tender, nothing kind. It’s pure and animal and raw, his cock slamming into me, taking me hard and fast while that bastard can hear us in the other room.

  I don’t care about anything but the pleasure rolling in my skin. I don’t care about anything but my man, taking my pussy, fucking me from behind, making me his. I want him to taste me, get what he needs, give me what I want. Nothing else in the world matters.

  He releases my other wrist and rubs my clit as he pumps into my pussy, my ass slamming back against him, my body starting to sweat. We’re working hard, fucking and writhing, and his fingers on my clit push me over the edge, driving me absolutely insane.

  “Fuck,” I gasp, throwing my head back. “Oh, shit.”

  “That’s right. Come for your man, little girl,” he growls. “Come for me right now. Come on this big, fat cock.”

  The orgasm rips through me, rolling along my skin, driving me completely wild with desire. He continues to thrust deeper, harder, taking me through the orgasm, his body pressing me tight against the wall.

  I’m completely his, completely and utterly. I’m taken and controlled and dominated and all I care about is the orgasm streaming through my veins. It’s incredible, impossible, amazing. I never, ever expected to feel like this with a man, never in my life.

  I grew up with parents that wanted to control everything I did. And when I ran away, I thought I’d always want to be free.

  But now I realize that freedom isn’t always the best thing, and sometimes it’s better to give yourself over.

  Right here, right now, I want to give myself over to him completely. I know it, as sure as I’ve known anything in my life. I know he can give me what I want if I can only give myself to him completely.

  He continues to fuck me, rough and fast and hard and I feel him come inside my pussy. I gasp and look over my shoulder at him. “Come inside me,” I plead as he thrusts, filling me with his hot seed.

  “Fuck,” he whispers and kisses my lips hard, cock still buried deep between my legs.

  We kiss like that, over my shoulder, his cock inside me. We’re both breathing fast and sweating and I feel like I just ran a marathon, even though he just fucked me up against this wall.

  Slowly, we get ourselves together and pull our clothes back on.

  He watches me carefully as I shimmy into my panties and my jeans.

  “Are you ready for what’s next?” he asks me slowly.

  I frown and meet his eye. “I don’t know.”

  “We’re going to take him in. You know that, right?”

  I hesitate but nod. “Yeah. I know.”
>
  “Good. It won’t be fun. We’ll have to tell some lies, so we’d better get the story straight now.”

  I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay. Tell me what to say.”

  I’m ready to do whatever he says. I’m ready to give my life and my freedom over to him, because I trust that he’ll give me so much more in exchange.

  And so he steps close to me, bends forwards, and whispers in my ear.

  14

  Rhett

  I stand in the observation room next to Detective Evans and watch as Detective Graves goes over Emma’s story for the tenth time.

  She tells it like a pro each time. We went over it once in the hallway and again in the car, ignoring Mitch’s constant begging and pleading and threats.

  I wasn’t sure she’d be ready, but I had no reason to worry. The girl is a fucking natural at lying to police.

  It helps that most of her story is true. She tells them about running into Mitch, everything that happened that night, but we had to come up with a story for what happened after.

  It’s simple, and I think that’s why it’ll work. She tells Graves, over and over again, that she ran from the scene and hid out in the woods. She only came back to town because she was too hungry to stop herself, and when she came in for groceries, she had a change of heart.

  That’s how I found her. She came to me, told me the story of what happened that night, and realized who the man with the crooked nose was.

  From there, it’s simple. We picked up Mitch and brought him in.

  Not protocol, but close enough. This is Pine Grove, after all, and I’m the fucking chief.

  “Thing that I don’t get is,” Evans says to me suddenly, “why didn’t you call us? Why do it yourself? And why did she go directly to you?”

  I shrug a little. “She probably didn’t trust anyone but the person in charge.”

  “Maybe,” he grunts. “Still. Why pick him up on your own?”

  “You know Dean Fish. Any word of us coming for his man, and Mitch would’ve disappeared. Dean’s a good guy, but…”