Until Easton

by Sandy Alvarez

  I step up behind Becca, wrapping my arms around her waist and kissing her neck. Becca moans as I drag my lips across the surface of her skin. My hands fall down to her sides, following the curves of her body over the flare of her hips. My fingertips trace the hem of her cotton dress before dragging the cloth up her thighs.

  Becca sucks in a breath. "Easton." My hand slides between her thighs, and I feel the heat of her center.

  I pull the scrap of material covering her pussy to one side and slide my fingertips through her silky slit. "Fuck. You're already wet for me." My cock throbs with a need to be inside her.

  "Someone may see," Becca says, yet presses her ass back against me.

  "Does the thought of being watched excite you?" I coat my fingertips with her wetness and rub circles around her swollen clit. Of course, the chance of someone seeing us is slim since the loft door opening doesn't directly face the house. Nonetheless, adrenaline and a pure animalistic need to fuck her right here turns me on.

  I pepper kisses across the top of her shoulder, pulling the strap of her dress down her arm, then repeat the process on the other side of her body while continuing to manipulate her bundle of nerves. Her dress gathers at her waistline, exposing her tits. I stop touching her long enough to step in front of Becca and drop to my knees. My nostrils flare at the scent of her desire, and my mouth waters.

  Reaching up, I tug on her dress, peeling it and her panties down over her hips, removing the clothing from her body. I sit back on my heels to drink her in. Becca's skin glows beneath the moonbeams breaking through the clouds in the sky. Her wet pussy glistens before me, and I can no longer deny myself what I hunger for.

  Her.

  "I've been picturing you naked all day." I bury my face between her thighs and feast. Her fingers thread through my hair as she whispers my name. "Easton. Oh, God." Her nails dig into my scalp when I suck her clit. I feel her pussy flutter against my tongue as I lap at her. My hands take hold of her ass as she climaxes, and my woman's climax coats my lips while she rides the waves of her orgasm.

  I spread her dress out on the floor and pull Becca down with me. "I need to be inside of you," I say desperately and quickly rid myself of my clothes.

  "Please, Easton." Becca gazes at me with hooded eyes. She palms her breasts, pinching her nipples, then I watch as she slides one hand down her stomach and touches herself between her legs. Lightning illuminates the sky and thunder booms.

  I begin stroking my cock while Becca rubs her clit, her eyes glued to my hand. "Fuck, you're perfect," I tell her. The instant she opens her legs a little wider and dips a finger inside her pussy, I almost lose my shit.

  "Do not make yourself come," I demand, and her eyes lift from my dick to my face. "Take yourself to the edge but don't jump." My strokes become fevered as we masturbate together.

  "Easton, I need to come," Becca begs.

  I settle between her legs, dip my head, and take one of her taut nipples into my mouth. Her moans drive me to suck harder before moving to the other, giving it equal attention. I grab the hand Becca is using to pleasure herself, bring it to my lips, tasting of her once more, and growl. At the same time, I bring her leg to rest on my hip and bury my cock inside her tight pussy. "I'll never get enough of you," I admit, rocking my hips, moving in and out of her.

  Outside, rain pours down, pelting against the roof. I crave her like nothing else. She is like an out-of-control wildfire that consumes me. Her walls flutter around my cock. "Don't stop." Becca grips my ass, wanting me to fuck harder.

  "I don't plan on stopping until your legs are quivering and you're screaming my name." A few seconds later, an orgasm rips through her body. Her pussy strangles my dick. Electricity shoots down my spine and curls my toes as I spill my seed inside her.

  * * *

  We lie there for some time, just listening to the rain fall outside. "Come here." I tug on Becca, bringing her body on top of mine just to look at her. My cock hardens again, and Becca rocks her hips, rubbing her already wet pussy against it, and I hiss. She raises, aligns the head of my dick at her entrance, and slowly sinks. She takes control, pinning my arms down, and then proceeds to use me to get herself off again.

  "That's it. Take what you want, baby." Becca's walls tighten around my dick as she alternates between slow, drawn-out up-and-down motions. She brings me to that "almost about to come” moment several times before suddenly not moving a muscle. And just when I grab her by the hips to roll us over, Becca's hips move again, and her pussy squeezes my dick tight. "Fuck," I growl through clenched teeth as I have the most intense release of my life. Lights flicker behind my eyelids, my calf muscles lock up, and I forget how to breathe.

  At this moment, my only thought is I'm going to marry this woman.

  The aromatic smells of bacon and vanilla pull me away from a peaceful sleep. I reach for my woman, but the space beside me is empty. She's probably downstairs fixing breakfast. I breathe in deep as I stretch, inhaling the scent of her flowery perfume that still lingers on the nearby pillow.

  My phone rings. In no big hurry to answer, I lazily toss the covers off me and sit on the edge of the bed. My feet contact the wood floor, warmed by the sunlight shining through the window, and I curl my toes against the surface. The phone stops ringing but starts again. I sigh and grab it from the nightstand. It's Miles calling. "What's up?"

  "How're things in small-town USA?"

  My mind drifts back to last night. "Couldn't be better."

  "I bet. Listen, I need you to take a drive to the city."

  I stand, cross the room, and start throwing some clothes on. "Okay."

  "The police need you to fill out some paperwork on the break-in, and you need to pick up your cat. I have a last-minute meeting with Greg McDowell first thing tomorrow morning, so I fly out to L.A later today."

  "Alright." I glance at the time. "I'll see you before lunch."

  "Perfect. Safe travel, and I'll see you later," Miles says, then ends the call.

  I finish dressing then head for the bathroom. After taking care of business, I head downstairs toward the kitchen, where I find Becca along with the Kings' women placing trays of food onto the large farm-style table where the men and Becca's grandpa sit drinking coffee. I make a beeline for my woman, who is warming pancake syrup in the microwave. I snake my arm around her waist, brush her long hair to the side and kiss her neck. "Morning."

  "Hey."

  "You should have woken me sooner." I breathe her in.

  "You were sleeping so well." She spins to face me. "I planned on waking you to eat." She smiles, then I kiss her. The microwave dings, and I reach around her, taking the syrup from inside.

  Quinn rubs his hands together the moment I set the syrup on the table, then snatches it. "She warms the syrup first. You're a lucky motherfucker, Easton." He bobs his head while pouring it onto his stack of pancakes. "You know you've found a queen when a woman goes out of her way to feed you like a king. Take it from me." Before he stabs into his food, Quinn turns to Emerson, grabs her chin, and smashes his lips with hers. "I speak from experience."

  Emerson rolls her eyes yet smiles. "You're impossible."

  "Yeah, but you love me." Quinn shoves a forkful of food in his mouth.

  Jake clears his throat. "I think we'll be heading out today."

  I pile some bacon on my plate. "What time?"

  "Late afternoon," he tells me.

  "Good. I need to make a drive to Nashville after breakfast." I turn to Becca. "What's your pet policy? I need to swing by Miles' place after dealing with paperwork at the police station to get Gizmo."

  Becca laughs softly. "Gizmo is more than welcome to stay with you here." Her forehead creased. "Does going to the police department have anything to do with your apartment break-in?" Shit. I didn't think when I mentioned that part. I close my eyes and wait for it.

  "Break-in?" I hear the worry in Emerson's voice.

  "Yeah. Someone trashed my apartment," I tell her.

  "Is this l
inked to the stalker shit you're dealin' with?" Jake asks, and now I have every set of eyes on me.

  I look to the ceiling. "They believe so."

  "When you say 'they,' who are you referring to?" Emerson inquires.

  "Jax, Miles, and the police. The place was trash, but nothing looked to be taken, and there were no signs of forced entry," I explain.

  "Didn't security footage pick up anything?" Reid asks.

  I shake my head. "Nothing unusual."

  "I don't like this." My sister frowns.

  There's nothing I can say that will make her feel better. "Miles had someone go by and install cameras inside the apartment. If it happens again, we'll catch the person. In the meantime, I have men investigating and have full confidence in them that they will find who the culprit is—promise."

  "I'm riding to Nashville with you," Becca states.

  I twist in my seat and face Becca. "I don't want to put you in the middle of this mess."

  "You're here, in my home, on vacation because of this obsessed person's threats," Becca folds her arm, and the action pushes her breast up. My eyes drop to her cleavage. "I'd say it puts me in the thick of it." I say nothing because she makes a valid point, and it makes me feel like shit.

  "I just don't want to risk your safety," I tell her but realize by the look on her face Becca is determined to get her way.

  "She's a Connelly, son. Once we dig our heels in, you can all but guarantee you've lost the battle," her grandad says while buttering a biscuit. "My Becca is head-strong but also very resilient. I hold high regard for you wanting to protect her—it's what you should be doing. However, she can hold her own, too." His eyes land on me for a second. "Let her stand beside you, not behind."

  Silverware tapping against ceramic plates is the only sound filling the room for a solid minute before Quinn speaks. "I'm taggin' along." He pauses and looks across the table at Jake. "You cool with that, Prez?"

  Jake runs his palm down his beard. "Wouldn't hurt to have an extra set of eyes keeping watch over a member of our family."

  I don't question or refuse the offer of added security, especially since Becca will be accompanying me. "Thanks," I tell them.

  "No thanks needed, brother. We take care of our own," Jake states.

  An hour later, we hit the road with Quinn traveling, without my sister, close behind us. Most of the ride is spent in comfortable silence, with Becca's hand in mine. The simplicity of her touch, along with the music drifting from the radio, make the short trip perfect.

  Quinn walks up to the truck once we finally find a place to park. "I'm gonna hang outside."

  "It shouldn't be long. I'll need to swing by my apartment before heading to Miles' place to grab a few things." I give him the heads up.

  "Alright, brother." Quinn nods and walks back toward his bike.

  I take Becca by the hand, help her from the truck, and we stroll across the street into the police precinct. After we walk through metal detectors, the clerk sitting behind the protective glass greets us. "How can I help you?" The female cop looks up from her computer screen.

  "I'm here to see Detective Wilkerson."

  "Name?" the officer asks.

  "Easton Evans," I say, and her eyes widen.

  "The Easton Evans, frontman for East of Addiction?"

  "That would be me." I give her a smile, and her eyes cut to Becca.

  "Umm." She looks around. "Could I have your autograph? My daughter is a huge fan."

  "Sure." The officer passes me a blank police department letterhead. "What's your daughter's name?" I ask.

  "Harper. Her sixteenth birthday is next week," she tells me, and I start signing. "She's going to lose her mind."

  * * *

  Happy Sweet 16, Harper!

  Easton Evans.

  * * *

  "Thank you. Oh, and please sign in." She slides me a clipboard. "Wilkerson's office is on the second floor at the end of the hall on your right." She smiles again then Becca and I walk away and head for the elevator.

  "Sorry about that," I say as we step inside, and the door closes.

  "Why?" Becca pushes the number two button on the control panel.

  "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

  "I'm not. I understand what you do for a living. Even though I've never been involved with the lifestyle, I'm going into this relationship with eyes wide open, Easton," Becca says.

  "Come here." I pull her to me. "How'd I get so lucky?" I gaze upon her face and run the pad of my thumb across the freckles on her skin.

  "Kiss me already," Becca orders.

  "You don't have to tell me twice." My lips press firmly against hers.

  The dinging of the elevator door pulls us apart, and we step into the hallway and head right toward the door at the end. I knock twice. "It's open." Wilkerson looks up from the pile of papers on his desk. "You Evans?"

  "Yes, sir." Becca and I walk in, and Wilkerson stands. He isn't your cookie-cutter detective. His appearance gives me Jake vibes with the thick beard. The guy is built like a brick house, and has tattoos covering both arms. The guy looks like he could bench press a squad car.

  "And the young lady?" His attention shifts to Becca, and I get a bit heated with him looking at her.

  "This is my girlfriend, Becca Connelly." I could have kept the introduction to just her name but felt the need to make it known she's mine.

  "Noted," Wilkerson states. "Have a seat." He resumes his position behind the desk and waits for us to be seated before continuing. "I need you to sign these." He slides a paper to me. "It's the incident report from the break-in.'' I skim the report before signing anything, then hand it back. "Is there any chance you may know this person? An ex, perhaps?" Wilkerson lens back in his chair.

  "No exes."

  "A former employee, crew member, anyone you can think of who may have been disgruntled or pissed off in the past?"

  "I've yet to fire anyone, and I'm sure I've pissed a few people off in my life, but I hardly think they would be professing their undying devotion to me and threatening bodily harm over the fear of losing my affection," I tell him. "All your questioning leads me to believe you're hitting dead ends on the investigation."

  "We don't have much to go on," he states the facts. "You hired Jax Mayson. I don't know him personally but know he's good at what he does, which is finding the small details." Wilkerson leans forward, placing his forearms against the surface of his desk. "I've been at this job for a long time, and one thing I can tell you is stalkers never give up. They feed off the fixation they have for their target. Over time it consumes them past a point of no return. They tend to be mentally ill and unstable individuals, so never let your guard down."

  When we’re finished, we leave Wilkerson's office and head for my apartment. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I look for Quinn, who was cut off at the light by some dickhead driving a Lamborghini.

  My mood feels heavy and paranoia has me looking over my shoulder every few seconds. What if Wilkerson is correct, and things get worse before they get better? I park my truck. "It will be okay." Becca tries to be optimistic and rubs her fingertips at the base of my neck.

  "I'm risking too much being here—having you here with me."

  "I wanted to be here, Easton. You didn't force me."

  "I should have said no. I don't want something to happen to you because of me," I admit.

  "First, I don't like being told what to do. And second, I feel safe with you." I close my eyes and lean into her touch when she places her palm on my cheek.

  Quinn's bike rolls up beside my truck, and he cuts the engine. "Sorry to ruin your love bird's moment, but I need to drain the dragon."

  In and out. That's my plan as we enter my apartment building. The moment the three of us step into the elevator, a hand shoots in from outside, stopping the door from closing, and in steps Mallory.

  "Oh, hey. You're back." Her eyes light up and travel over me like she is the predator and I'm her prey, until they fix on mine a
nd Becca's joined hands. She loses her happiness. If looks could cut a person, Mallory would have sliced right through Becca. What the hell is up with her? Mallory plasters a fake smile on her face. Mallory's eyes cut to Quinn, who leans against the wall as the elevator begins to move. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" She says friends like it leaves a nasty taste in her mouth.

  "Mallory Vargas, meet my brother-in-law Quinn, and my woman, Becca," I introduce her to them.

  Mallory rolls her eyes. "Your woman sounds so primitive and degrading."

  Before I can respond, Becca grabs my face and rises on her toes.

  "I find it to be a huge turn-on," she claims with a kiss.

  My girl has claws. Nice

  "Fuck yeah," Quinn boasts. "You fit in perfectly with our side of the family."

  "Whatever floats your boat." Mallory blanches and changes the subject. "I heard about the break-in. Can't believe something like that happened here. I've been worried sick it may happen again. I sure hope they catch the person responsible." She takes a pause, perhaps waiting for my response, but I have none. "Any leads on who sent you the letter?" she asks.

  "How do you know about the letter?" I glare at her.

  "Oh, we all know about the stalker situation." She waves her hand, and I don't second guess what she says because the walls have ears in this business. A couple more seconds pass in uncomfortable silence before the doors slide open. "This is my stop," Mallory chirps, and Quinn holds the door for her to step out. "Quinn, Becca, it was nice to meet you." The door closes.

  "That was awkward," Quinn grunts.

  "She's had a thing for me since we hired her, but I've never been interested."

  "Does she know that?" Becca asks as we exit the elevator.