His Thrust: A Dark Small Town Romance (Pine Grove Book 3)

by B. B. Hamel

  I hesitate then nod.

  “I understand,” he says. “Of course you wanted to get out. You feel trapped down here, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “I’m sorry, little Emma. I know it’s hard, but it’s for your own good. Believe me, you’d rather be trapped in here than trapped in a prison cell. They won’t be nearly as nice to you as I am in prison.”

  I meet his gaze and feel a surge of defiance suddenly. I don’t know where it comes from, but it pushes me to move closer to him. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that I feel like I’m being brave.

  “How do you know they’ll send me to prison?” I ask him. “I didn’t do anything and you know it. If the guys running the investigation are good cops, won’t they let me go? And aren’t you the police chief? You can help me.”

  He sighs, still smiling, and shakes his head. “You don’t understand small towns at all, do you, little Emma?”

  I glare at him. “I understand how they can be poison.”

  He looks surprised and pleased at that. “You’re right, they are poison. It seeps into everything around here and folks don’t even know it.”

  “You’re the police chief,” I press. “Why can’t you help me?”

  “Because I don’t hold all the cards. I have to answer to the people of this town, and if they think I’m doing a bad job, they’ll get rid of me. See, little Emma, if they don’t find anyone else to pin this murder on, they’ll pin them on you.”

  I glare at him. “So find the real killer.”

  “I’m trying. When we do, I can let you go.” He smiles at me, for real this time. “See? That’s how this works.”

  I take a deep breath. “You’ll really let me go once he’s caught?”

  “Cross my heart. Once he’s caught, you can go free. But if I let you go before…” He shrugs a little. “I can’t promise anything good will happen.”

  I feel completely deflated again. All that defiance and anger slowly seeps away, and I’m just an angry, scared girl all alone in the world.

  “Come here, little Emma,” he says, gesturing for me. “Come here. I know this is hard.”

  I walk toward him, slowly at first, but finally I let myself get pulled against his big, muscular chest.

  I press close and he hugs me tight. It feels good and I hate myself for thinking it. He feels so good, pressed up against me like this.

  “I’m sorry, little Emma,” he whispers.

  “Sorry for what?”

  He grabs my hair tight. I gasp a little bit as he pulls me over to the kitchen table, turning me around, pushing me up against it.

  He bends me over, shoving me down. I groan and look back at him, eyes wide, not sure what’s going on. He smirks at me and reaches around my hips, unbuttoning the fly of my jeans and tugging them over my hips.

  I bite my lip as he slides them down onto the floor. He kicks them aside then pulls my panties down with them. When he’s done, I’m naked on the bottom, my ass and pussy out in the open for him, his hands firm on my naked hips.

  He spreads my legs wide. “You know, I’m a nice man,” he says softly. “I’m a very, very nice man.” His fingers slide up between my legs and I have to stifle a gasp as he finds my pussy. “But sometimes, I have to get stern. I don’t like it, but I need to make sure you’re going to follow the rules.”

  “What rules?” I ask.

  He grunts a little laugh and I feel his fingers teasing my pussy. I’m trying not to moan but it feels so good, and I’m dripping wet already. I almost hate myself for how easily he gets me wet, like my body betrays me, proves that I’m just a dirty girl, a filthy girl.

  I’ve got demons, and he knows how to work them.

  “Two rules, really. The first rule is, you obey me completely. You do what I say, when I say it. You don’t talk back, you don’t ask questions. You just obey.” He grabs my hair tight and tilts my chin back. “Do you understand that?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Good.” He releases my hair, teasing my pussy again. I groan and clench my hands into fists. “The other rule is even simpler. You don’t ever go up those stairs.”

  I look over my shoulder, eyes a little wide. So he really does know.

  “What?” I whisper.

  “You don’t ever, ever try to escape like you did today.” His grin is so wicked, I almost want to push him away, but I don’t move. “I saw it, little Emma. You think I’m not keeping an eye on you?” He leans closer, lips against my ear. “I have a camera watching the door up there. Down here, you have some privacy, but if I ever see you go up to that door, well…” He pulls back, fingers sliding up inside of my pussy as he takes the belt from the table with his other hand.

  I watch him as he brings the belt down on my ass. I gasp, pussy clenching around his fingers. He pulls them out slowly and brings the belt down again.

  He doesn’t hit me hard, not those first two strokes, at least. It stings only a little bit. Mostly it surprises me.

  “If you do it again, I’ll hit you with something that’ll hurt even more. I won’t be nice about it, little Emma. Since you didn’t know, this is only your warning.”

  He teases my pussy again, fingers caressing my clit, sliding back to push inside of me. He fucks me with those fingers, rolling in and out and oh, god, it feels so good.

  He brings the belt down again, this time a little bit harder. I gasp as pain stings my skin but he doesn’t stop fucking my pussy with his fingers.

  I groan and roll my hips, pain and pleasure mingling, driving me wild. I’ve never felt this before. It’s always been one or the other, pleasure or pain, but never both. The way he fucks my pussy with his fingers and spanks my ass with his belt, though…

  It’s driving me wild. It’s making the pleasure even sweeter, the pain somehow making the pleasure even more intense. I almost can’t handle it when he brings the belt down one more time.

  “Look at you,” he whispers. “You like your punishment, don’t you?”

  I have to stifle another moan and I shake my head.

  He laughs softly, fingers plunged deep into my cunt.

  “You love it,” he whispers, leaning over me. “You like getting spanked while I fuck your pussy. And this is just a start. Imagine my big cock taking you rough, fucking your ass, fucking your pussy, while I spank you nice and hard and make you beg for me to keep fucking you.”

  I groan, losing myself. I know I’m losing myself, and I know I should try and stop it.

  But I can’t. It feels so good, his fingers deep inside.

  He spanks me again with the belt.

  “This is just a taste, my Emma,” he says in my ear. “Just a little taste of what I can give you. But if you keep going up those steps…”

  His fingers pull away. I look back as he brings the belt down on my ass.

  One stroke. One hard stroke.

  I gasp in pain. It lances up my spine and I groan. This time, there’s no pleasure to smooth it out.

  He sighs and kneels down, fingers caressing the angry red skin on my ass.

  “Poor girl,” he says gently. “I know. I was too rough. Here, let me make it up to you.”

  He pushes me down again and spreads my ass wide. I feel his tongue lick me, every inch of me, and my eyes go wide.

  I can’t believe what he’s doing. He’s licking me from behind, licking my ass, my pussy, every inch of me. He doesn’t hold back, not even a little bit. At first, I’m shocked, but then the pleasure starts to overwhelm the lingering surprise and pain and oh, god, I love it.

  I clench my fists again and lie with my right cheek on the cold table. I can’t see him, but I can feel his hands on my ass, his tongue licking me top to bottom, teasing and working and pushing me further and further.

  His fingers slide inside of me, and he strokes me like that, fucking me from behind. I feel his tongue on my ass as he slides his fingers in and out, expertly fucking me from behind, tongue licking my ass.

&nbs
p; It’s so filthy, so dirty, and I love it so much. This is what I knew I could do. I knew I could give in to him, give him every inch of my body. I’d let him do absolutely anything to me, so long as it feels good.

  God, I can’t help myself.

  He pulls back suddenly and turns me around, lifting me up onto the table. He keeps my legs spread, feet flat on the table now, leaning back on my elbows. I watch him slide his fingers inside me and start to suck and lick my clit.

  I throw my head back and moan. I moan as loud as I want because nothing else matters but the pleasure I feel right here, right in the moment. I don’t care if it’s right or wrong, I don’t care if I’m in his prison.

  I don’t care because it feels so freaking good.

  He finger fucks my pussy fast and licks my clit, sucking and teasing. I roll my hips and I know I can’t take it much longer. I’ve been riding the edge since we started and now he’s pushing me closer and closer to my limits.

  He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. I’m sweating and moaning and he keeps fucking my pussy with his fingers and licking my clit, sucking it, sending pleasure rocking through my body.

  “Let me taste your cum,” he whispers to me, fingers buried in my cunt. “Let me taste your little pussy while you come for me, my Emma, my filthy little Emma.”

  “Fuck,” I gasp as his tongue slides all around me, licking me faster and faster, his hands gripping my hips rough.

  I come for him, just like he wanted. I let it all go, let myself completely lose it to the pleasure. I come hard and he doesn’t hesitate, he laps me up, licking me all over as the orgasm rips through my body, intense and incredible. I swear I nearly black out as my body twitches and my muscles tense, waves and waves of pleasure washing over me.

  Finally it slows and finishes. I collapse back onto the table, panting, as he straightens and licks his fingers clean.

  “Good girl,” he says. He leans over me and kisses me softly.

  I watch him grab the belt, smiling to himself.

  “I’ll be back with your dinner soon,” he says, heading to the stairs.

  I sit there on the table, breathing deep, staring at him.

  How does this man do this to me? He spanks me with a belt, controls me, dominates me. He admitted to watching me through a camera, although he says he lets me have privacy down here, away from the door.

  And yet I don’t care about any of it. I don’t care what he says or what he does. Right now, still reeling from my orgasm, all I care about is getting more.

  I’m greedy for him. I’m greedy for that feeling. I need more. I know there’s so much more.

  I want it all, and I don’t care what I have to do to get it.

  8

  Rhett

  I almost feel guilty about punishing Emma.

  It’s a weird feeling, guilt. I’ve never really experienced it before. I’ve always been the kind of man to do what I want and never apologize for it, but with Emma, it’s almost like I have this strange weight holding me back. It’s keeping me from going as far as I want to go, and she has no clue what I’m really hungry for.

  That’s probably a good thing.

  I keep hearing her moans as I drive to work the next morning. I keep hearing her groans, the way she practically begs for more without even realizing it. I love those moans.

  But there’s an anger in her. She’s defiant in a way I didn’t expect. I figured she’d try and get away sooner or later, but the second day? I didn’t see that coming, not at all.

  I’m happy I have that camera watching the door. I do have cameras all throughout that basement apartment, but they’re not turned on, and I don’t plan on turning them on unless I have to. I told her she could have some privacy down in her space, and I’ll honor my word.

  But if she keeps trying to break my rules, well…

  The punishments will always be fun. At least a little fun. I’ll always make sure they feel good. I want to keep her thinking about what I can do to her.

  But it won’t always feel that good.

  I sigh as I pull into my spot and head into the office. I hate that I have to think about these things. I want her to just obey me, listen to what I tell her, let me have her body when I want it. She’ll enjoy it just as much as I do, that much is obvious. She just doesn’t know how to submit yet.

  There’s a part of her that’s ready, but she’s fighting it. I have to get past that impulse, and then…

  Well, then she’ll be all mine. And I’ll have to decide what I want to do with her.

  The department is buzzing like always. I nod at a few guys and walk toward my office. “Morning, Jane,” I say to my secretary.

  “Messages on your desk,” she says.

  “Thanks.” I head inside and sit down. The messages are all boring bullshit, political stuff, the kind of shit I despite. I ignore most of it, except for one note.

  I hesitate, but I pick up the phone. Detective Evans picks up right away.

  “Morning, Detective,” I say.

  “Good morning, sir,” he responds. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so quickly.”

  “You’re running the biggest investigation in this town in years, so yeah, I’ll call right back.”

  He hesitates a second. It’s only a second, but I can read a little uncertainty there. I want him uncertain, on his heels. That’s how I’ll get away with it.

  “Sir, prints came back from the lab. No matches in any databases.”

  “Keep looking.”

  “We will. Fibers came back as well, they’re clean, no matches. DNA is still running, but…”

  “You’re betting no matches there?”

  “None, sir.”

  I grunt. “Okay then. Nothing new.”

  He hesitates. I expected him to hang up, but…

  “Sir, there’s one thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “One of the fibers. It’s from a police uniform.”

  I stay silent for a second. “Wasn’t that place crawling with uniforms?”

  “Yes, but this fiber was on the body.”

  Ah, shit.

  I remember walking in there with the girl, looking at the body. I remember touching it like an idiot, getting blood on my fingers. I never should’ve touched it, but hell… I couldn’t help myself.

  “What’s that say?” I ask him. “One of the responding offers. Got too close?”

  “Could be,” he admits.

  “Follow up. Make sure it’s just some idiot cop contaminating the scene.”

  “Got it. Will do.” He hesitates again and I want to fucking scream at him. “Sir, are you sure you didn’t see anything off when you responded to the scene?”

  “I told you already.”

  “We should go over it again.”

  “We shouldn’t. You got your interview already,” I practically snarl at him.

  He doesn’t seem perturbed at all. “I’d also like to know where you went after you left the scene, sir. It could be important. There were other footprints, smaller ones, I think a woman was at the scene, and you might have seen here.”

  Damn, damn, damn. He’s piecing things together too quickly or his own good.

  “Follow up on the fiber and the prints.”

  I hang up the phone without another word.

  Fucking hell. Evans is really pressing this thing and I think he’s actually suspicious of me. I know he’s a good detective, but I didn’t know he’s suicidal.

  Questioning your superior like that is the surest way to get fired in our profession. Either he doesn’t care or he really thinks I’m deep in this.

  Fucking bastard.

  I get up from my desk and head back out. I wanted to put this off, but I can’t wait any longer.

  “Jane, I’m heading out, hold my calls.”

  “Roger that,” she says without looking up.

  I walk back to the car and get in, slamming the door shut.

  I’m pissed. I wanted to let Emma stew a little bit longer down t
here, tease her some more, but I don’t think I can wait. I need her to tell me what she knows, every single little detail. I need to actually start working this case.

  Not for her. No, when I solve this murder, I’m not sure I’ll even tell her.

  No, I’m keeping this girl. Letting her go when the case is solved is the one promise I have no intention of keeping. I know, I know, it’s not great.

  But fuck it. I’m not perfect.

  I’m very far from perfect.

  I head back to the house. When I get there, I head right downstairs.

  She’s awake and sitting on the couch, watching TV again. She perks up as I come down the steps, and she’s actually smiling when I walk toward her.

  “Good morning,” she says. “I thought you’d be at work.”

  “I was,” I admit. “But I came back.” I sit on the couch with her. “We need to talk.”

  She sits up straighter. She’s wearing a big sweater and a pair of yoga pants today. “What about?”

  “That night. The man you saw. I need every single detail.”

  “I already told you about him.”

  “Tell me again form the beginning. Tell me absolutely everything.”

  She stares at me and finally bites her lip. I know that look. It means she’s going to do what I say.

  “What happened?” she asks. “Something at work?”

  “Lead detective is suspicious of me,” I admit to her. No use in trying to hide it. “So I need to solve this case sooner than expected.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “I am disappointed, little Emma.” I lean closer to her, eyes meeting hers, a wicked little smile on my lips. “I hoped I was going to get more time with you down here.”

  She starts breathing faster and I know she’s excited now. She knows what I mean. She knows what I’m thinking.

  “Now,” I say, “tell me everything you know.”

  She goes over it all, starting at the top. She talks about the guy, about what she heard, about him pulling the trigger. She talks about struggling with him, about him running when I showed up.

  I make her go over it again and again. And each time she tells the story, I keep realizing that we’re no closer than when we started. She doesn’t have a clear memory of what happened, like most people involved in these kinds of traumatic events. She reacted on instinct, even hit the guy, which is admirable, but it’s not helpful.