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

by B. B. Hamel

  He grabs my ass and pumps into me. We’re fucking now, fucking harder. Pleasure and pain are all one thing and I can’t tell them apart anymore. I don’t want to tell them apart. His cock feels perfect between my legs, sunk deep inside. I roll my hips, riding him, and he sticks to my rhythm, my pace.

  I go faster, faster. I’m sweating, panting, gasping in his ear. “Go ahead, girl,” he groans to me. “Go ahead and ride that fucking cock. Look at you, you think you’re a virgin? Not anymore, you dirty girl. You’re riding my big cock and you’re not virgin anymore.”

  I gasp and moan. I love the thought of being dirty for him. I love being told how dirty I am. He spanks my ass and I ride faster as he cups my breasts.

  “Come on my big fat cock, you dirty girl. You filthy girl. You’re not a virgin anymore.”

  I moan his name, whispering it, shouting it. I ride him and sweat drips off my skin, and he licks my nipples, big hands on my back and my ass, and I know I can’t take it anymore. I know I can’t hold back another second.

  I come hard on his big cock, my whole body shuddering. I nearly black out and he keeps it going, pulling me close against him, fucking my tight pussy with his enormous cock. It hammers into me and I come and come, the orgasm rolling through me. The only thing in my world are my moans, his grunts, and his cock and the pleasure.

  I feel him come not long later, just as I start to finish. He fills me up, hot and sticky. I roll my hips, wanting more, and I love the way he groans and moans and says my name as he comes deep inside of my tight little pussy, my virgin pussy.

  Well, not a virgin anymore.

  We collapse together on the couch, sweating and panting. I have no clue how much time’s passed and I don’t care. All I care about is feeling his body pressed tight against mine.

  “That’s what I can give you, little Emma,” he whispers in my ear. “And that was just the start.”

  I kiss his lips gently.

  It’s a gilded cage, a beautiful cage. But it’s not a cage exactly, because cages are usually things people don’t get a choice about.

  I think I have a choice, and I’m choosing this cage. At least for now, at least while he can make me feel this way. I can’t imagine trying to run away, not when there’s so much more I have to learn.

  And I know he’s going to teach me.

  10

  Rhett

  A fter tasting her, feeling her, I know what I want. I know what I need.

  I’m keeping her around, no matter what.

  I leave her that day and night to think about what it felt like to have my cock buried between her legs. I know I’m thinking about it, all fucking night long, and in the morning I’m thinking about it as I cook her pancakes.

  “Good morning,” I say to her as I open the door to her little bedroom. She’s still in bed.

  “Morning,” she mumbles from under the covers, and slowly sits up. She’s wearing just a white t-shirt, her nipples hard under the thin cotton, and I’m tempted to get in there with her, to take her all over again.

  But no, I have plans for today.

  “Come on,” I say. “We need to eat. We have something to do today.”

  “We do?” she asks.

  “You’re going to meet somebody. And hopefully, we’re going to figure out who that guy was.”

  She bites her lip and I can see the fear in her eyes.

  She’s perfect. What she told me is going to be a huge help. I have a hunch I know someone involved in this case, and I’m hoping we’ll get lucky.

  We eat breakfast together, and she keeps stealing shy little glances in my direction. I know what she’s thinking and I want her to think it. She’s wondering when I’m going to fuck her again.

  I want to tell her it’ll be soon, so long as she makes me happy.

  “Get dressed,” I say to her when we’re finished. “I’ll do the dishes.”

  She shrugs and heads back off to her room. I clean up and when I’m finished, she’s back out and ready.

  “Where are we going?” she asks as I lead her up the steps.

  “To see a man named Dean Fish.”

  “Dean Fish?” She frowns. “Never heard of him.”

  “Of course not. You’re not from this town.”

  She shrugs a little. “Is he important?”

  We push through the door at the top of the steps and I take her hand, pulling her through the house. I know she’s seen this much once before but I don’t want to let her linger.

  “He’s important,” I say.

  “What’s he do?”

  “He manages… well, he manages the town.”

  “He’s the mayor?”

  I shake my head. “Not exactly.”

  “You’re being vague.”

  I lead her out to my car and I let her sit up front. “I know.” I get in next to her and pull slowly back down the long driveway. “It’s hard to explain.”

  She’s looking out the window and I know what she’s thinking. She’s wondering how she can escape, how she can get away.

  I think I might let her go, if she really wants to run. It’s a strange thought, because I’ve never let someone run before. But every time I think about keeping Emma in my basement against her will forever, I feel almost…

  Bad. I feel almost fucking bad.

  That’s not like me.

  I don’t feel bad about things. I never have. I think I might be broken, or there’s something inside of me that’s broken, but either way I’ve never felt much guilt. I’ve always taken what I wanted, when I wanted it, including whatever fucking girl I needed.

  Emma, though, she’s different. I can’t tell why. Maybe it’s because she obeys so well, or because she wants to obey instead of constantly fighting me, but she’s different. I find myself wanting her more than I’ve ever wanted someone in my life.

  And now I need her to help me if I’m going to keep helping her.

  We drive in silence for a little bit. I let her look around. We’re deep in the woods, so even if she made it to the road somehow, it’d be hard to get away without me catching her. I probably wouldn’t chase, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “I need you to be good,” I say softly as we pull onto the main road and head into town.

  She looks at me sharply. “Excuse me?”

  “I need you to be good,” I repeat.

  “You think I’ll embarrass you or something?”

  “No,” I say, smiling at that. The idea of her embarrassing me is silly, given the situation. “No, I’m worried about you trying to get away.”

  Her eyes narrow but she doesn’t speak right away. “Why should I stay?” she says softly.

  “Same reason you came with me to start with.”

  She bites her lip. “I’m not sure I believe you anymore.”

  I smile but it’s my turn to stay silent. She watches me carefully and I know what she’s thinking.

  “Listen,” I say softly, forcing her to lean closer. “I understand how you feel. But if you stay, we can solve this little murder problem, and maybe we can do much more than just that.”

  “More?” she asks, almost like she’s greedy.

  I just smile and keep driving.

  * * *

  Dean has an office in a little building at the center of town. It doesn’t have a sign out front, nothing to tell you that he’s in there, toiling away all day, but every important person in this town knows where to find Dean Fish.

  “He runs this place,” I say softly.

  “You told me that already. But who is he, the mayor or something?”

  “No,” I say. “He’s the representative of a very, very rich family.”

  “Rich family?” She snorts. “So what?”

  “They own this town, or at least they used to. They’re all gone now, but the money still lingers, and Dean controls it all.”

  “So he runs things in their place.”

  “More or less.” I frown and hesitate in front of the door. “Dean isn�
��t such a bad guy. Actually, I think he’s trying to do good for this town. But… this town isn’t good.” I look at her, head cocked. “Doesn’t matter what your intentions are. This town twists everyone it touches.”

  She stares at me as I push through the door and we walk into the building.

  It’s not creepy, like you might expect. It looks like any other boring office building. We ride the elevator up to the second floor, walk down a short hallway, and step into Fish’s office.

  His secretary looks up and recognizes me right away.

  “Hi, Darcy,” I say to her. “Is Dean around?”

  She smiles brightly at me. “Well, if it isn’t our handsome police chief.”

  “You doing okay?”

  “Doing great now.” Darcy grins at me and glances at Emma, but doesn’t say anything. “He’s back there, but he’s got visitors.”

  “He always does.”

  She laughs a little. “True. Want to wait?”

  “Sure. Mind telling him I’m here?”

  “No problem.”

  I walk over and sit down. Emma sits next to me. Darcy picks up her phone, says something softly into the receiver, and then gives me a little smile.

  It’s always like this. I doubt Fish has anyone important back there, but he always likes you keep you waiting.

  Ten minutes later, Dean himself comes strolling out from the back. He’s a handsome guy, used to be a football player back in the day, although now he’s gotten a little softer in his old age. He laughs as he walks over to me.

  “Hey, man,” he says. I get up and shake his hand.

  “How’s it going, Dean?” I ask.

  “Going good, going good. And who is this?” He looks at Emma, his eyes brightening just a bit.

  I can’t blame him. She’s gorgeous.

  “Emma,” I say. “Just an associate.” I pull his attention back to me. “Can we talk in private?”

  His face falters a bit. “What about?”

  “You hear about the murder?”

  He shakes his head sadly. “Fucked-up shit, Chief.”

  “I know it. Mind if we talk?”

  “Well, I don’t know how I can help, but I’ll sure try. Come on back.”

  We walk past Darcy and down another hallway. There are other little offices, although I’ve never seen anyone in them.

  We step into what was probably meant to be the conference room. Now there are a bunch of chairs along the sides and a desk at the far end. A bunch of guys are sitting around a round table in the far corner, playing cards, like straight out of a gangster movie.

  That’s probably pretty accurate. The guys all look like fucking thugs, after all. They’re ex-football players just like Dean, working for him now that it’s hard to find work elsewhere. They do his dirty work and they get away with a lot.

  I scan their faces as Emma looks around, and I spot exactly what I came here for. My heart fucking leaps as a guy with a crooked nose goes completely still.

  Emma stares at him blatantly like she’s in a dream.

  I let it linger for a second, just to be sure, but yeah, it’s him. She’s staring right at him, and he looks like a deer in the headlights.

  I grab her arm gently and steer her toward Dean’s desk. I don’t need to go through the rest of this, but we might as well play the game.

  Mitch Ware, one of Dean’s oldest friends, and a big fucking asshole. He’s one of Dean’s go-to guys for a little muscle.

  A story of what happened starts to fit into place.

  “What can I do for you?” Dean asks.

  “I was hoping you might’ve heard something about that murder,” I say, crossing my legs. “You and Kaleb had some business, yeah?”

  “Just a little,” he admits. “Nothing worth killing a guy over, though.” He chuckles a little.

  I smile back tightly. Clearly, that’s not true.

  I guess Dean isn’t as good a guy as I thought. Or maybe he’s just getting more and more corrupted, living in this twisted town.

  We chat for a few more minutes. I ask him some questions, mostly halfhearted, and he gives me big smiles and reassurances. He’ll help out, ask around, all that stuff. I shake his hand and he leads us out.

  I note that Mitch is gone when we leave.

  “Thanks for your help,” I say to Dean, shaking his hand one more time.

  “Never hesitate to just stop on by,” he says, smiling a smile that means he’s lying.

  “I’ll take you up on it.” I steer Emma away and we leave the building.

  Out in the car, she turns to me.

  “That was him,” she says.

  I sigh. “The one at the table?”

  She nods sharply. “You saw?”

  “He looked at you like his head might explode.” I sigh, chewing my lip. “It’s a little complicated, though.”

  “Complicated?”

  “That’s Mitch Ware. He’s Dean’s number one guy, a friend from way back.”

  “So what? That’s him, I’m totally sure of it.”

  I sigh as we start to drive back to my place. “I can’t just go after Mitch like that. Dean is a powerful guy and if I step on his toes…”

  “He killed that poor guy!”

  I frown at her. “I know that.”

  “He’s a murderer and you’re police. Don’t you have to stop him?”

  “I wish it were that simple.”

  She gapes at me. “It is that simple, though.”

  I sigh and drive straight ahead.

  “Money is the most important thing around here,” I say softly. “Folks don’t have jobs like they used to. Dean hires people, starts projects, develops land. He’s important to this town, and if I start poking him, if I arrest his best friend…” I shake my head. “People won’t like it.”

  “So, what? We let him go?”

  I grin at her. “I never said that.”

  She sighs. “You’re impossible.”

  “I know. Listen, we aren’t giving up on this. I just need to think about it.”

  “Fine.” She crosses her arms like a petulant child. “Do whatever you want.”

  I laugh softly. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Angry. Disobedient.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Is that all you think about?”

  “Yes,” I say softly. “It is. That, and punishing you when you’ve done something wrong.”

  She bites her lip. “You have a thing about punishments.”

  I laugh a little bit as the trees get thicker around us, speeding away from town. I can’t help but feel a little relieved. She didn’t try to run, didn’t give me any problems at all. Part of me thought she was going to scream her head off as soon as we got out of the car.

  But maybe I’m reading her all wrong.

  We pull down my driveway and I can feel her eyes on me.

  “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  She shakes her head. “I guess not.”

  “Good. That’s good. I don’t want you to be afraid.”

  We reach the house and I park my car. I turn to her, not moving right away. She watches me carefully and suddenly, I have an insane idea. I have a stupid idea.

  I don’t know why I want it, but I do.

  “How about you take a look around my house?” I ask her slowly. “Not just the basement.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Do you trust me?”

  “Not at all,” I say softly, leaning toward her. “But I’m curious.”

  “About what?”

  “About you. And maybe I want to see what it would feel like to have you upstairs.”

  Her eyes are like whirlpools, dragging me down deep.

  She nods slowly. “Okay. I think I’d like that.”

  “Good.” I climb out of the cruiser. She’s right behind me as we walk toward the house, my heart beating fast.

  11

  Emma

  I walk through the house, staying close to him.

&nb
sp; I should want to get away. I should grab something, hit him over the head, and run away as fast as possible. I should want to hurt him, at least enough to escape. I know what this is and I know what he wants from me.

  I should feel that way, but I don’t. Instead, my heart’s beating fast as I follow him past the basement steps.

  “Bathroom there,” he says, pointing. “Office there, extra bedroom there. And here’s my room.” He pauses outside of the door at the end of the hall before pushing it open.

  We step into a large, airy room with huge glass windows on two sides. The windows overlook the forest, deep and dark, stretching out in all directions. It suddenly hits me just how secluded we are out here. Pine Grove is in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of an enormous forest. It’s amazing that anyone ever finds this place.

  His bed is big and simple and modern, just like the rest of his house. There’s a closet, a bathroom off one side, a dresser, nightstands, and that’s pretty much it. There’s no mess, everything’s in order and very neat, and I can imagine his closet is immaculate.

  I can’t say I’m surprised. This is a man that loves control, that thrives on dominating his surroundings. Of course he’d control his own home.

  “So, this is it,” I say softly.

  “Not what you were expecting?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s just… simple.”

  “I don’t spend a lot of time in here,” he says, walking over to the windows and looking out. “I sleep in here, get changed in here, but that’s pretty much it.”

  “I guess that’s how bedrooms are supposed to be.”

  “Exactly. But people let their lives bleed all over the place. They don’t keep things in their proper place, they’re lazy about it, and then…” He trails off, staring out the window.

  “Is that why you’re bringing me in here?” I ask him suddenly.

  He looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t belong in here,” I say, stepping toward him. “I belong down in the basement, in my space. But you’re bringing me here anyway. Is it because you want your life to start bleeding a little bit?”

  He smiles almost sadly and turns to face me. “Maybe that’s right,” he says after a moment. “Or maybe it’s simpler than that.”