by Dee Ellis
“I need it. I need it too. Open up for me, Darlin’.” My thighs obey, falling open wide, my body teetering on the edge he keeps me on.
One large hand pins both mine above my head. I feel his fingers twisting and yanking before my hands are trapped. No, tied. Tied. My sexy fireman tied me with fire hoses, to a fire truck. Ooey gooey as fuck.
“Be still, Darlin’.” Hunter flashes his teeth, that dimple making me swoon a little.
He makes quick work of tangling my ankles in more hoses, spreading me to him. Then my panties are gone, skirt flipped up. Rapid fire, he yanks my top down, letting my tits spill out, and tugs once at his fly. In one movement, his cock is out, his big fist wrapped around it, and I’m bare to him.
“Reckon they might be back soon. Better hurry up and get deep inside you, wife.” Hunter’s watches me with an entirely new look in his eyes.
I’m on fire. From the smell of the firehouse—smoke, leather, and Hunter. From the sting at my ring finger. The ache between my legs. And the look of dominant ownership in his pretty green eyes.
The sinew in his thick arms, his toned forearms ripples as he angles over me. Hunter is a beautiful man, the tattoos that darken his skin adding the perfect touch of danger. But, it’s his smile that caught my eye that first night. Its bright and warm, lighting up his eyes as they crinkle with mirth. A dimple flashes when he means it, and so often lately, he’s rewarded me with that cute little fucker.
“Fuck. I love you. I’m gonna’ do it right this time, Lola Bear. I promise.” I know he doesn’t mean this, as in this moment, this act.
Hunter means us. I want to promise it too. Or, tell him it wasn’t him who got it wrong before. Maybe it wasn’t me either. I don’t get a chance; hand hooked behind me, digging into my ass, he thrusts home.
“Oh, god.” Again, he shows me the stars and I’m shuddering.
“That’s it, wife. Come on my cock. Show me how good we are.” Hunter hooks his other hand in my hair as he starts thrusting.
My eyes roll back as heat burns through my veins. Pleasure sizzles my skin and my chest aches with it. Hunter closes his full mouth around one nipple, sucking, biting, licking, then the other. Thrusting slow, hard, deep, he takes all the rest of me I hadn’t yet given.
Hunter anchors me to him so tightly, I doubt I could get away from this, from him, if I tried. But, I won’t.
13
“I will fucking end him.” I roar to Diggs as I watch footage Lola can’t know exists.
“Going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Look, I’ve got eyes on your girl at all times. Just need this guy to fuck up. He’s fucking good, though.” Diggs puts his hands up when I shoot him a glare, shoving his donut into his mouth.
Diggs had dug up more info about Seth and we met up at Dunkin Donuts to go over it. I’m supposed to be on my honeymoon. After three days of making Lola my wife in every possible biblical way, I got the call from Diggs. I snuck out with a promise of some strawberry glazed donuts and Dunkin coffee.
After meeting Diggs at a table, he shoved his laptop my way. A few seconds into some shaky camera action, I saw it. My wife walking from the Library; ducking in and out of the shadows is a young man, following her every step. Dark, shaggy hair, empty eyes and expensive clothes left little doubt it was her ex-husband.
“I just mean he’s careful, Hunter. Keeps his distance. Doesn’t approach. Stays in the shadows. Do we know what his end game is?” I shove the laptop closed when I see his smarmy fucking face smirking at Lola; I came into frame, picking her up the day our honeymoon started.
“Lola is like a trophy for him, I think. Before I came into the picture, I think he just liked knowing what she was doing. Where she was at. Just in case he needed her. Now that I’m here…” I sigh, running a hand over my bald head.
I don’t miss Diggs’ eye dropping to my left hand. I don’t hide my tattoo, because fuck if I’ll hide being married to Lola. I don’t want to answer questions, though, and he clears his throat and nods. We talk more about the detail watching her, one that Lola has no clue about.
“They won’t approach or make a scene, even if something goes down. They’re just there to observe, to track her. If something does go down, if he assaults her again or we see something we can use against him, they’ll let me know.” I nod, sipping the coffee that’s now cold.
“You keep me updated. Any proof about the break in I told you about?” Diggs nods as he shoves more donut into his face. Cops.
“Yeah, yeah actually. The cop who worked the case said they got some fibers and some fingerprints. Your man isn’t in any databases, naturally, so no hits. We get his fingerprints maybe we can hang him with that. What about the fire?”
As my leg bounces, I see the fire again. I didn’t know until I saw her building on fire how important Lola had become to me. Then when I learned about her ex-husband, I put two and two together. I was trying to put him in the restaurant the night of the fire; I think he was behind it. An attempt to send her packing.
“Deacon knows my suspicions so they’re going back over things. Won’t know for a few weeks. Look…I know this shit is off the books, and I know I owe you for the details…” Diggs shakes his head and smirks.
“No. I owed the boys of 71 a solid. Fucked up once. Won’t let it happen again.” Diggs sobers; both of us know he almost fucked up things for Finn when Gigi had a stalker a while back.
Diggs followed the trail, found the girl responsible but didn’t buy it was her. I think it was the tits that did it. Or the fact that she rode his cock in his cruiser every time he grew a conscience and tried to follow his instinct. Either way, it turned out okay, but Diggs had been working his way back into our good graces ever since.
“Well, this is a good way to get right. Find out anything about the sister?” I question, smiling politely as the teen girl behind the counter brings me the dozen donuts I ordered.
“Right, yeah, actually,” Diggs pulls a notepad out of his pocket and flips it open, “It seems little sis is quite the debutante back home. As in legit had a debutant ball. You said she’s heading here for a visit?” Diggs looks at me over his notepad, and I nod.
“They got in touch a few weeks ago. To be honest, I don’t think Lola wants to see her; I think the sister pushed the visit.” I frown, tossing my nearly empty coffee in a nearby trash can.
“Be careful with her. Looks like she’s their new golden child; smiles at all the old man’s campaign shit, kisses babies, and all that kind of nonsense. Doubt she cares much that Lola has done a disappearing act.” We share a look and I nod again, ready to head home to my wife.
“Keep me updated, Diggs. Redemption, right?” I offer a smirk then tug my ballcap on and head out, my lady’s promised sweets in one arm.
Truth be told, I am less than happy about her sister’s visit. Poppy is set to be here in Chicago in just a few days. We agreed to let her stay in Lola’s old place for a week or so, let the sisters catch up. Something about it doesn’t feel right to me, though. Besides that, Lola already mentioned once being uneasy about it.
I have more reason to be uneasy. I mean, the sisters haven’t seen each other in over four years, I get it. But if something could take her away from me, I fear it might be her old life. Not that I could see Lola blazing the campaign trails with her purple or turquoise hair, tattoos, and crazy bird.
No, I fear the power of their family bond. That any bonds Lola has with her little sister, or maybe even her parents, will give them the leverage to manipulate her. We rushed into this marriage, but I know her story.
I know that once, she was very close to Poppy. I know despite her entire family casting her aside and not reaching out for years, she wishes she could make them happy. Make them approve of her. It’s complete horse shit; my lady is fucking amazing and doesn’t need anyone’s approval. Especially those fucks.
“I just wondered,” Lola whispered one night in bed, “what can I do to be good enough? What could I not do to see them look at me th
e way they always did? Nothing I did—not how well I excelled in class, or smiled for the cameras, bowed my head and did what was asked of me—none of it seemed to matter.” Without ever meeting them, I hated her family; her parents were cold fucks, and I hoped they never darkened my doorway.
“Seth felt like rebellion at first, but really, they always wanted that. Not the way it happened; not with me running away and him playing rock star for a few years. They just turned their heads while we lived out our teenage angst.” Lola was shamed of that part of her, but it brought her to me.
“You’re more than good enough, Darlin’. It’s them who are lacking. They got the money, the connections, everything, to find you. Instead, they send Seth to fetch you, which we both know is all him showing up is about. Too fucking bad. You have a life here. The girls, the library, your art. Me. Too fucking bad.” We had only just begun then, but the idea of losing her had rattled me.
With Holly, I had never known anything but her. I hadn’t even considered a future without her. One day, I realized although I knew her, I didn’t really understand her. Didn’t understand the things she desired, the kind of life she wanted. I’d known her my whole life, and by the end, I felt like she was a stranger. Losing her had hurt, of course, but it hadn’t felt like I expected.
Losing Lola? I don’t know if I could take it. Pain burns in my chest, my fist rubbing at it, at the very idea. I love her. I fall more in love with her every day, with different parts of her. I proposed because I couldn’t think of another way to tie her to me that felt permanent enough.
Now, I will do anything it takes to keep her tied to me.
Our honeymoon goes by too fast. All too soon, I’m driving her to the airport to meet her sister. Lola’s been on edge since her sister called to confirm her pick up time the night before. When Lola is on edge, I’m hanging over it. Doing my best to keep her from crashing.
“Relax, wife. Good things, a visit with your sister. If not, I will personally plant her ass on a plane headed east. No fucking with my Fay Wray.” I wink at her as I bring her tattooed finger to my lips.
“It’s been so long. What if…I mean, what if she’s changed so much I don’t recognize her? Or…if I changed so much…” At a stop light, Lola swipes a hand over her face, and I ache to see her crying.
“Darlin’, I don’t doubt you changed. She did too, I’m sure. You will be enough for her. Just the way you are. If not, she’s not enough for you, Lola Bear.” I say this last part a little rougher than intended and I watch her smirk.
“I love you, husband. I’m good enough for you, and that’s enough, right?” My chest aches for a different reason and I nod, lacing our fingers together.
“That’s goddamn right, Darlin’.”
Lola was nervous. We made it to O’Hare early, despite heavy traffic on the tollway. Her sister’s flight isn’t due to land for fifteen minutes. I fear my wife might combust before then. Sadly, not because it seems she’s too enthused to see her sister.
“Darlin’, relax.” I catch her wrist as she paces a path in front of me.
“I am relaxed. Like, so relaxed. Just my sister. Who used to think I was the second coming. Who now likely hates me, but seems super enthused for this visit.” Her hands shake in mine as I tug her to my chest.
“I’m not going to let her, your parents, or your ex take you back east, Darlin’. I won’t let her take you to dinner if I don’t feel like it.” Dipping my head to catch her eye, I smirk and wink.
Lola smiles, giggling a little as her pretty purple eyes light up. There’s my girl. That smile could make me do anything. I drop a kiss at her lips, gripping an obscene amount of backside beneath her short skirt. I hear someone clearing their throat and have half a mind to punch someone’s face in. Until I realize, a tiny, blonder version of my wife is the source.
“Don’t let me interrupt.” A look twists her lips as she cocks her head at us.
“Poppy. Hey,” Lola makes a face at me, pinching my pierced nipples before she about faces.
“Come here, Pops.” A new look twists her face as Lola opens her arms wide.
Our eyes meet briefly; I see the dismissal in hers, and I hate her. Just like that. I like everyone—I’m from the south, we’re a loving people. Or, at least my people are. The way she looks at me doesn’t make up my mind. I could give a fuck less. It’s the way Poppy—in her expensive boots and designer bag, reeking of pricey perfume and excess—looks at my lady that convinces me.
They’re blood, for Christ’s sake, and she looks at my Lola like a stranger. It’s been a while, but Jesus. As I watch, Poppy slides on a mask of feigned interest, one I have no doubt she’s mastered, and steps close to Lola.
They embrace for a moment. Poppy steps back first. Guess that’s called a hug? I tug Lola back against me, winding a protective arm over her front. I might glare down at her little sister. I might will her to read my thoughts. That I’d fucking die keeping my lady safe, happy, and away from them. Her shapely brow shoots up, as if maybe, she can. A smirk twists her face, confirming it. I hate her. Legit hate her.
“You must be Hunter.” Poppy tilts her head, her glossy blond hair falling over one shoulder.
“Reckon I am. Relocating?” I tip my head towards the rolling luggage and two duffels she’s dragging behind her.
“Hardly. I travel heavy. I am starving. You should show me some Chicago pizza or hot dogs or something as wonderfully mundane.” Poppy lets out a laugh, and I feel Lola stiffen against me.
Since I am a southern gentleman, even to bitches who don’t deserve it, I grab her luggage in one hand. The other wraps protectively around Lola as we lead her sister through the terminal.
It’s quiet at first. The sun is shining, and it would be a great day to show her around Chicago. If I wanted to show her a good day. Once we reach the truck, and a look of contempt crosses her face, I know that’s not happening. I help Lola in, leaving Poppy to fend for herself as I toss her pricey luggage in the back.
As I climb into the cab, the girls are talking finally. Or, at least, Poppy is. I slide close to my lady on the bench seat, wrapping a possessive hand around her thigh. Giving it a squeeze, I make a face at her, and she rewards me with that smile.
“Mother said to tell you she misses you. Father did not want me to come, of course. Primaries and all that being right around the corner. I do a lot of work for the campaign. I just had to see you, though. Missed you so much, Lola.” It sounds scripted, rehearsed; every word she says lacks genuine emotion.
“Miss you too, Poppy.” Lola’s voice is sad, and I know she doesn’t miss her, not really.
Lola misses the sister she once knew. The one who looked up to her, who thought she was the second coming. It’s clear more than a few years has passed between the two now. It’s killing me to see her hurting over something she can’t change. I bring her tattooed finger to my lips and, as has become habit, drag my lips over the curves and lines.
During her sister’s visit, I want her to try. To do her part to close whatever distance has grown. I doubt it will work; something tells me Poppy is here for something other than rekindling their bond. Which is why Diggs is finding out everything he can about the snooty blonde. For now, I will play doting husband—though that is still our secret—welcoming host and southern gentleman.
We end up at Lola’s favorite pizza joint, Giordano’s. It’s tense at first and I realize I haven’t spoken a word. After getting us some beers, and a deep dish, I dive in.
“Tell me about Poppy.” I tip my head to her, giving her the floor.
That is exactly what Poppy wants. A chance to tell us how great she is, how wonderful her life is, how good things have been for her. While Lola has struggled. Been alone and scared. Scarred by Seth and the disgusting things he did to her. Left alone to make a life for herself. All while her baby sister took her place in the sun and shined.
“I mean, of course,” Poppy laughs, an empty, hollow sound, “I am no Lola--you always shone the
brightest, of course--but I have dazzled a little on my own now.” There’s something dark in the way Poppy watches Lola as she says this.
Resentful. Almost hateful, even. I clutch her tighter to me, a hand smoothing between her thighs lazily. It keeps her on edge, keeps her focused on me. Neither of us spoke while we ate, not that Poppy allowed us a moment to try. Instead, I let my fingers walk up and down her thighs, between her legs.
Over the gauzy lace of her thong. Once, as Poppy went on about bonding with her mother, who I know Lola was closest to once, I slid two fingers inside her. Just enough to ground her. Get her wet.
“Pumpkin.” Lola breathes softly, that silky sexy rasp that gets me hard as steel. Every time.
“Mmm, hush Darlin’. Your sister is catching up.” My fingers pumped for a few moments before I felt her thighs shaking.
All the while, her clueless, insipid, icy snob of a sister prattled on.
I didn’t let her come, though. That would be later, when she needed it. Because I knew she would need it. When I slid my fingers from her slick heat, I inconspicuously touched them to my mouth, sucking her sweetness from them. Lola let out a soft moan, her sister stopping mid-sentence to frown at her. I smirked as I savored her taste, scooping up a piece of pizza with my other hand. Looked innocent enough.
“Anyway. When will you come home for a visit?” Poppy asked.
“Put that down as never.” I took a big bite of the saucy, cheesy goodness, winking at Poppy.
“I’m sorry. What?” Her slim fingers tapped at her wine glass—who orders wine with pizza, really—as she glared at me.
“Hunter,’ Lola warned, taking a slow bite of her pizza, “I don’t know. Maybe someday. Maybe not. They can come here.” Poppy laughed that fucking laugh again.
I shoved more pizza into my mouth to keep from saying something to piss my lady off. Now, my hand slid between her thighs to calm me too. I pressed my palm against the softness of her pussy and it was Zen like, the peace it gave me. Beside me, Lola went softer, ooey gooey soft like she called it, as my fingers stroked again. Slow. Lazy. In no rush to lead her over the edge I knew she was on.