Wannabe: An Against The Odds Novel

by Christa DeClue

  I breathe him in as our mouths fuse together, and can’t help but kiss him back. After all, pain in my ass he might be, he is still a walking wet dream. I allow him to pull me closer until I’m practically climbing him to deepen our kiss, and his tongue slips into my mouth to duel with mine. I feel the wetness seep between my thighs and a jolt of pleasure goes straight to my pussy as he picks me up and slams me against the wall of the building. My legs lock around his waist as his hands grip my ass and a whimper leaves my throat as I try to grind my jean-clad pussy against his abdomen. I rip my mouth from his to cry out when the right pressure from his abs hits my clit. He grunts, “Fuck. Amber,” into my neck as he licks and bites, and I rock my hips to create more friction. I feel my core grow even more slippery.

  The knowledge of being in a public place tries to trickle in, but all it does is heighten the pleasure I’m feeling. Ryan must realize I can’t quite get enough friction to come because he sets me down.

  “Pants off. Now,” he demands.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, I unbutton and unzip my jeans. I kick them off as quickly as I can and hear a deep rumble come from Ryan’s chest. It’s such an animalistic sound that if I wasn’t already a human waterfall in my panties, I would cause a flood that would have normal people looking for Noah and his ark. I let out another whimper as I launch myself at him. He grabs my ass and hoists me up higher than I was intending. With his brute strength, I find my legs around his shoulders and my back against the wall again. I look down at him, drunk on arousal, and watch with a surprised hunger as he rips my panties from my body. With. His. Teeth. Holy monkey balls.

  With another animalistic sound, he dives face first into my pussy. The first touch of his tongue to my clit feels like a bolt of white-hot lightning, if the lightning was pleasure, and I almost come from the first contact. I moan loudly and he bites my inner thigh in warning. I quickly cover my mouth with my palm as he starts kneading my ass, and he licks me from my asshole to my clit. I see stars. As his tongue lashes my pussy, I moan harder into my hand and feel my orgasm building to an almost painful pleasure precipice. He sucks my pussy lip into his mouth, then quickly does the same to the other, before he latches on to my clit. The powerful suction of his mouth sends me over the edge, and I come, screaming his name before I realize my hands are now buried in his hair.

  He doesn’t stop after the first orgasm, but adjusts himself so his powerful shoulders hold my weight as he slides two fingers into my heat. He starts whispering the hottest things to me. “Amber, baby, you’re such a dirty girl. But you taste so fucking sweet. Tell me this pussy is mine. Tell me you’re not going to give it or fucking sell it to anyone else.”

  I pant, feeling a second orgasm building, more intense than the first. When I don’t answer him, he stops moving his fingers. I cry out and try to squirm on him but he holds me fast.

  “Fucking tell me you’re mine, Amber.” He growls when I shake my head negatively and he curls his fingers but doesn’t move them. I’m seconds away from sobbing. “Tell me, Amber,” he whispers and blows cool air on my clit. My pussy clenches hard around his hand but he withdraws the digits almost completely.

  “I’m yours, you bastard. Yours. Please, just make me come,” I sob out.

  His fingers slam back in as his tongue lashes my clit again, and I come so hard I feel my wetness saturate his face. He groans deeply and I see heaven. I’m floating in a sea of pure pleasure as Ryan slides my boneless form down his body to place me back on the ground. He holds me steady while I sway on my feet like a newborn calf. I’ve never come that hard with anyone before. As I start to reach for his belt to return the favor, he quickly stops my hands and pulls them to his face and kisses my fingertips. I look at him, confused.

  “Tonight has to be about you, baby. I need to know you actually are mine before we go further,” he says softly. I feel the heat of embarrassment flood my face. I forcefully pull away and quickly tug my jeans back on after I realize the scraps of my panties are a lost cause.

  “So, you were doing that to prove a point? You gotta get me off to get me off the streets, huh?” I hiss at him. His eyes narrow. “You can’t take me how I am now; you have to know I’m not doing anything to embarrass you anymore?”

  At my words, he flinches back, and I can see the truth of my statement written on his face. I quickly turn away and march out of the alley, towards my building, disgusted with myself.

  “Amber, just fucking wait a second, okay? I didn’t mean it like that. I want you safe is all. I want you to give us a fighting chance, because I know you fucking feel this connection too, and we have no chance if you keep doing these things. I can’t keep you safe, and it kills me. I need to be enough for you. This life, what you’re doing, is not you. We can build something together. Just give us a chance. Fuck,” he says in a slightly raised voice. I stop in my tracks but don’t turn around.

  “I can’t,” I whisper in a tortured voice. I feel a tear slip down my face and, for a moment, I wish I had never met this man. This man, who is clearly meant to be mine. I steel my spine and continue walking.

  “I’m not giving up, Amber. You’re mine. Just like you admitted earlier. I don’t know what you’re scared of, or better yet, who you’re scared of, but I’ll fight the devil himself if I have to. You’re mine.” His voice floats to me. I wish he knew I wasn’t scared; I just couldn’t have anything with him right now. Not when I’ve come this far.

  I enter my building and let the rest of my tears fall. The best sexual experience of my life and he had to open his mouth and fuck it up. My soul feels split in half as I get on the elevator. I finally reach my apartment when my phone buzzes, and I pull it out with dread as I unlock the door. I head inside but stop when I see it’s not from Ryan. It’s from Michael.

  We need to talk.

  My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline at him texting me. I quickly text back.

  Okay, can it wait until Thursday? I work tomorrow; Matt gave me my job back.

  The three bubbles pop up and I quickly lock the door behind me. I throw my keys in the basin by the door and plop down on my couch. My phone finally buzzes again.

  It can wait until Thursday, but you’re lucky that tomorrow is Wednesday. Things are off, and I need you to watch your back. I don’t want to send Danny in, but I will if I have to. Thursday. Don’t be late.

  I blow out a long breath and send back one word.

  Understood.

  If it’s urgent enough for him to message me, it can’t be good news. I stare up at the ceiling and decide that after this night, I deserve a stiff…drink.

  Chapter Seven: Ryan

  My alarm buzzes at five a.m. on the dot, but it doesn’t matter because I’ve been awake all night, staring at the ceiling. My mind is racing with all the possibilities of what Amber could be afraid of, and I’m torturing myself. The fact she could even think I’m ashamed of her is insane to me. I roll over and turn off my alarm clock. It’s my first day back at work since my “vacation.” I rub my hands over my face to try and erase the tiredness I know is there, then sit up and feel the light fogginess in my brain. I shake my head quickly to try and clear it, and when it doesn’t work, I decide a shower is in order. As much as I don’t want to wash her scent off of me, I need to shower.

  I turn on the shower and while I wait for the stream to heat up, I study myself in the mirror. I touch the healed knife wound in my abdomen from Fallujah and turn to see the gnarled mass of healed bullet holes in my right shoulder from Afghanistan. I keep my body stacked with enough muscle, which makes me dangerous in any situation, and I’ve always thought my scars tell my story of survival. I press the heel of my palm against my chest right above my heart. I have to relax my tense muscles by doing breathing exercises, like I’ve done every morning since getting out of the military. I put on a façade that everyone believes I’m unaffected and cool under pressure, but lately, my anxiety is higher than it’s ever been, and I’ve felt out of control. I get more and more flas
hbacks and it’s pissing me off. I know it has something to do with my inability to protect Amber.

  I only ever wanted to be a hero. I wanted to protect people and do something great with my life. It’s why I joined the military with Collin, right out of high school. We rose the ranks together, and we were like a well-oiled machine because we knew each other better than anyone else. Collette and Collin were the only family I would ever claim. My old man left when I was four, and the woman who birthed me couldn’t give two shits about me, caring more about her next fix, so I spent most of my time at their house growing up. I always swore I’d save the kids that were me, caught in the life of a parent’s addiction. The tattoos swirling my body tell the story of anger, disappointment, and loss. Skulls and the faces of demons, but the phoenix tatted on my back gives me more meaning. It gives meaning to the hero I’ve always wanted to be. I can do that, I can be that. Working in Narcotics is making a difference and I’m determined to stop being weary from my past.

  I’m not ashamed of Amber, but the choices she makes, the careers she chooses, brings me back to my mother and how she stayed on drugs. She’d sell herself to pay for the next high; she never gave a fuck about food or clothing her only son. She only cared about chasing her favorite demon. Now, I lock up the demons that provide the high for other people, and I somehow managed to fall for a girl in the same life my mother was. Not that Amber has ever done drugs, she’s smarter than that. She just won’t quit the life, no matter how many times I have her arrested and prevent her from going through with the prostitution. I run my fingers through my chin-length hair and step under the hot stream. The steam of the shower chases the remainder of my demons away, and the only thoughts in my head are of the moans Amber gave me yesterday. I can still taste her on my lips and that causes my dick to stiffen. The memory of the way she threw her head back in ecstasy causes a groan to slip out and I palm my aching dick, which quickly hardens to full mast. I grab some body wash and soap myself down quickly.

  I close my eyes and stroke my cock from root to tip forcefully and I let my head fall back against the shower stall. The water beats down on me as I continue to stroke myself to the memory of Amber’s moans and flavor, but the memory quickly turns into my favorite fantasy.

  Amber quickly sheds her shirt and her tits bounce free and my mouth goes dry. Those rosy nipples are tightened to diamond hard points and they jiggle as she walks towards me, stopping an arm’s length away. She lets her fingers trail down my chest, feeling every ridge of my abdomen, before she grips my dick. Her eyes grow big at the size and her mouth drops open. I smirk at her and whisper, “What’s the matter, baby? Afraid you can’t take it all?”

  Her cheeks stain with a light blush even when she gets that wicked glint in her eye that I love. She drops to her knees and blows on the tip. “I can take whatever you want to give me, Ryan. It’s been a long time though, so it might be tight. I want to try though,” she says breathily.

  My hand continues to jack myself to the fantasy and I feel the rush of pleasure at the thought of filling her mouth with my dick. When my cock hits the back of her throat, she gags slightly before relaxing those muscles, and I slide all the way in. She breathes through her nose like a good girl while looking up at me with those doe eyes. I lose control and fuck her face in my mind, all the while fucking my fist, and when my fantasy Amber starts to hum, my balls tighten and I explode all over the shower door.

  My breathing is choppy when I open my eyes and the same as every time, I feel both disappointment she isn’t in here with me, and disgust at myself for not making the move to bring her here. But this time, the disgust at myself is quickly tempered by the knowledge that I did make my move. The ball is in her court now. I make quick work of washing the rest of my body before my legs give out at the force of my orgasm.

  The morning routine after my shower time goes quickly and before I know it, I’m entering the building that houses my unit. Narcotics in St. Louis is a large unit because it’s such a prevalent problem. I walk past all the uniformed officers who are welcoming me back, while acknowledging them with a head nod and a laugh. After what feels like forever, I finally make it to my desk and drop into my chair. I have a mountain of paperwork on my desk from the time I took off.

  I’m about to dive in when I hear, “Look at this ugly son of a bitch that the cat dragged in, guys. He’s obviously lost. No way he could be the mythical Detective Stone, because everyone says Detective Stone is a good-looking SOB, and this guy looks like he’s coming off a three-day bender.” The speech ends with a laugh and a clap on my back.

  “Titus, you motherfucker, I still look better than you, so who’s the real loser here? At least I don’t look like somebody’s grandpa at thirty-five.” I growl at my partner but end with a laugh. He glares at me for a moment before barking out laughter too.

  “Touché, you bastard, touché. I can’t help I became a silver fox early as hell. But trust me, I can’t keep the bitches off my dick. They constantly want to call me daddy, and I’m drowning in freaky pussy right now while you pine after unavailable pussy. What were you saying about losers?” he tells me with a wink, and this time the rumbled growl I let out is real.

  “Watch it, Titus. She’s not like that and you know this.”

  He just gives me a smirk and rolls his eyes at my continued glare. When he realizes I’m not letting up, he raises his hands and backs up a step, then lumbers over to his desk across from mine and drops into his own chair.

  “You know I was just fucking with you, Stone. Amber is hilarious, and sometimes I think she only got arrested to appease you. She’s smarter than she puts off. I like her, I just don’t like her profession or the knots she has you twisted up in. Or the fact that she caused my partner to take vacation for the first time in three years. Or the dildo talk…Jesus, the dildos,” he calls over to me and scratches the salt and peppered beard on his face while he stares at me pointedly. I dip my chin, acknowledging his concerns.

  “It’s handled. Titus. Now, how about you stop gossiping like a girl and catch me up to speed on the comings and goings before Captain gets back and does it for you,” I grit out after clearing my throat. He mumbles something about me needing to get laid and I just narrow my eyes at him. He flips me off and adjusts his shoulder holster.

  “We have an influx of heroin laced with fentanyl going around. It’s killing a lot of junkies. Nobody can identify the dealer, so we can’t identify the supplier. When I say influx, man, I’m talking that it nosed out meth and seemingly every other drug. We’re having multiple fatalities every day. The paramedics can’t keep enough Narcan on them for their shift, the hospitals are bogged down with OD’s, and we have no leads. We’re getting put on the map because we look like we’re sitting here with our thumbs up our asses while people are dying. It’s a full-blown epidemic and the whispers are the FBI and the DEA are both sniffing around. Captain has our balls in a vise to bust the dealers and get to the suppliers, but there’s not a single whisper. We’re looking for ghosts,” Titus says with frustration.

  I lean forward, steepling my hands, and my thoughts race with all the information he just provided me. “Fuck,” I whisper, not realizing how bad things had gotten while I was gone. Titus nods at my whispered obscenity and my spine straightens when I see my captain making a beeline straight for me. He jerks his chin to his office, and I nod. I rise and Titus gives me a sympathetic look. I walk straight-backed into his office and Captain Marshall closes the door behind me.

  “Welcome back, Stone.”

  “Thank you, Captain, it’s good to be back here,” I reply with formality.

  “I assume Titus filled you in on the going-ons around here,” he says, getting down to business. I just nod and he continues after blowing out a breath. “I have the FBI and the DEA at my throat, and my bosses are gunning for my ass because we can’t find the cause or the persons responsible for all these deaths. I need you to dig in and focus on this right now. You’re the best I have, and I need yo
u to trace the heroin back to these lowlifes. My ass is on the line, Stone, and from this point on, so is yours. Understood?”

  “Understood, Captain.”

  “Dismissed.” I turn to leave, but his voice stops me. “Oh, and congratulations on passing the sergeant’s exam. You’re officially Sergeant Stone. Now go and catch these bastards, Ryan.”

  My body freezes at the news I passed the test I took months ago. I nod again and walk out of his office. I get made a sergeant when everything is going to hell in a handbasket. Figures.

  Chapter Eight: Amber

  Leather and spikes for some reason just does not look as good on me as it does on Briar. I got to Dark Angels early, in preparation for the evil hoe-my-god makeover Briar was supposed to give me. Apparently, bartenders here need to look like the love children of Marilyn Manson and Jenna Jamieson. Slutty, kinky, and crazy is really the stripper-slash-bartender trifecta. I’m wearing skintight black leather pants, a black leather bustier with spikes on the breast cups, with dark smoky makeup and eight-inch heels to complete the look. I feel like a deranged Barbie doll with my blonde hair curled around my face, and not in like the Texas pageant queen “the bigger the hair the closer to God” kinda way. More like the “I accidentally stuck my finger in a light socket but on purpose” kinda way.

  Briar finally steps back to observe the intense work she’s done and nods with a small smile. She’s dressed in a similar outfit but her bustier is a chocolate brown and her shoes are fire engine red.

  “All right, bitch, I’ve officially worked my magic. You look less like a stripper and more like a bad bitch,” Briar tells me firmly with a smirk.