Tied-up Deputy: Book 2 (Deputy Series)

by Dawn Marie

  He texted me! He texted me, I chant inside my head.

  I click to open message: I’m off work, heading home to change, do you want me to come over?

  Do I? I sit for a second or two, do I really? I must reply. The reply may lead me into hell but at least it will be because of an angel of a man. Who really isn’t an angel at all more like the devil himself.

  So, I reply: Yes. Hitting send message.

  Gabriel: I’ll text you when I am on the way.

  Panic hits me, I haven’t cleaned house in who knows how long, I’m not dressed you know. I get off the couch, and walk to my bedroom. I need to put on some proper clothes and then compose myself. What I have been waiting for, it’s going to happen, tonight. After all these months, I can feel the waning tension try to leave my body. Am I ready for this? Am I ready to see Gabriel in my own personal space?

  I decide on a red sundress, no bra, and black silk panties. I’m not too sure about having him come here to me, but I’m too emotional to go out to a public place. I want to find closure with the handsome Deputy that fucked me and left me in the woods. I want to know why, and I want to know why he hasn’t contacted me. I realize this whole traffic stop situation is a little bizarre. Who’d believe it?

  I often get myself in very weird situations. My friends love to listen to my stories. The thing about my story telling is, most of the time, I think they really think it is from my imagination. If they only knew the truth. That yes, most of my redneck stories are yes, very true. I often wonder how and why I am always getting myself into these baffling ordeals.

  My phone is still on the couch, and I hear a buzzing. I go to check on it. Sure enough a new text has flashed across the screen.

  Gabriel: Send me your address.

  Me: I type my address. With redneck directions: Turn right at the rundown trailer, the neighbors have a burn pile in the front yard. You’ll see my place.

  Gabriel replies: I’ll find you

  I leave my phone on the couch and rush into my bathroom to finish my makeup. I’m suddenly so nervous! The items on my list play in my mind like a well-used record. I’m thinking that maybe some items could be changed, or taken off. But I shake my head no, pick up black eyeliner and finish my eyes. I put them on the list for a reason and I am going to finish them one-by-one.

  I stare at myself in the mirror above the bathroom sink. Am I ready for this? I nod my head yes. However, that little voice inside my head, the one that always, always gets me into these risky situations; says to ride it for as-long-as it’s hard. Giggling I look at myself, standing in my red sundress, blond hair laying on the tops of my breast, my glasses reflecting the light from the bathroom lights, and I look in control. I think I can complete my list.

  All I need now is for Gabriel to arrive. And, the items on my list can get checked off. The deputy is fixing to get burned by one pissed off country girl. When life gives you lemons, you squeeze the shit out of them, and put that juice inside your sweet tea, throwing away the lemon rimes. Suddenly I need a drink to cool off. What about you?

  I walk into my kitchen, and find a wine glass, reach for the bottle of wine on the counter and pour myself a half glass of white wine. I sip it slowly, and look around my living room remembering I’m supposed to straighten up the place. So, I place the wine glass on the bar, and move some pillows around, turn on the living room light, and make sure I have the porch light is turned on. The noise from the movie that is playing is sort of loud in the quietness of the small living room so I turn the volume down and just leave the television on.

  I stand in the middle of the living room and wipe my hands down the outsides of both my legs. I’m suddenly a little fearful. What if my plan doesn’t work? What if I can’t handle what I am fixing to do? I dig my fingernails into the skin on my legs, the pain reminding me of the actions of that August afternoon. The actions when one sexy, tall golden deputy took what he wanted, where he wanted, and just calmly walked away.

  Walked away without any contact of any kind. No letters. No text messages. No personal knock at the front door. No, I’m deeply sorry flowers. Nada. No nothing. Who does that? Oh, yeah, I remember now. Fuck-boys. Guys that fuck any female they can, when they can, as often as they can, no relationships, no regrets. They never settle down, the never commit, it’s just a big game to them.

  The sound of a loud exhaust coming from outside catches my ear, causing me to look out the kitchen windows that face the street, and I see a huge lighted truck pull into my driveway. I move away from the window and open my front door. The porch light shows about half of my small porch in the darkness, the lifted black truck with huge tires, country music coming inside the darkness of the truck, stops a few inches from my car and parks. I can’t see inside due to the dark tint on the windows but I know its Gabriel. The truck suits him, I think. Dark. Dangerous. Sexy. Flashy.

  He turns off his truck, and I see his door open. He stands up on the side and the blues of his eyes catch my gaze. He steps down and slams his door shut. The sound echoes loudly in my front yard, as he walks slowly up to the steps leading up to the porch and my front door. I stand in the doorway, in front of my glass door, watching him as he walks towards me. When he’s half way onto the porch I open the glass door. I hold it open for him to come inside. He struts calmly, leaving a trail of his manly scent, freshly showered, into my living room. I close the door and turn to gaze at him.

  “Please, sit down,” I tell him. Pointing with my hand to the couch.

  “Thanks,” Gabriel replies, sinking his large frame into the softness of my couch.

  He lays his truck keys and cell phone beside him on the couch. I move to sit opposite him on the couch. I want to be close to him and see him up close. That unique smell that can only belong to him, drifts past my nose, and I clinch my thighs under my dress. I smell that scent in my dreams. Now it’s in my house, on my couch. I can’t wait till it’s all over my body again.

  He glances around my living room and kitchen. That hawkish gaze of his takes in every detail. He looks at my pictures, at my candles, all the crap I have everywhere, catches my wine glass on the bar, and smiles. He then looks at me. Really looks at me. Staring really. His robin-blue eyes are hot, almost painful in there contemplating. It’s like he’s pondering something inside his mind, fighting with himself. There’s no need for that, I think. You’ve already took what you wanted. Fucked what you wanted. It’s my turn now.

  “Why did you fuck me?” I ask bluntly. Might as well jump into the fire. I’ve wanted that answer for months. I just want to hear the reply from his lips.

  “Dawn…” He starts to say. I stop him quickly.

  “Don’t Dawn me!” I snap. He has the gall to wince.

  “Listen,” he tells me softly. His eyes asking me to stop. I don’t take orders very well.

  “No!” I yell. “You listen. I asked you a question and I want an honest answer.” I explain. I’m suddenly much too calm. Inside I’m ragging hot. “Why did you fuck me?”

  Gabriel looks pained. The paleness of his face tells me he’s not ready to admit why he fuck me. But needs to let it out. He needs to open up to himself and to me. Just admit it. You wanted something, which was me and you just took it. Used the uniform, and fuck the consequences.

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen the way that it did,” he begins. “it was a long, hot boring day on the job, and then I looked down at you. I lost it.”

  “You mean you took what you wanted?” I muttered.

  “Yes. I’m sorry and I’m not, Dawn,” he tells me. His gaze locks with mine.

  “You could have contacted me much earlier to say sorry. You didn’t. You’re an asshole.” I tell him.

  “I left you my phone number in the front seat of your car. And…” he pauses, looking at me directly, moving closer to me on the couch. “I said I’m sorry on the piece of paper and to please accept my apology and call me if you wanted to.”

  “Bullshit,” I screech at him.

&nbs
p; “Dawn…” His voice has that dark, threatening tone. The same tone he ordered me to get out my car with back in August.

  “Liar. You didn’t leave anything!” I snap back quickly.

  “I did,” he softly relies. His left hand reaches over to my right hand and clutches it softly. His hands are warm. The simple gesture warms me inside when it shouldn’t.

  “Whatever,” I mumble. It’s over with right. In the past.

  He takes the fingers of his left hand and lifts my chin. I look at him as he looks at me I have no choice. His eyes reflect mine and I see the need inside him. I crave him also. That aching needing, wanting, desire hits me hard. The heat from his body, leaps over onto my bare legs, warms me, makes he want his strong arms to clutch me to him.

  “I’m sorry I fucked you on the job and walked away,” he says. His voice firm. I believe him, I don’t want to, but I do.

  I can’t speak right now. I shake my head yes as much as I can with him holding my chin. His fingers are hard but soft. I can’t help but to remember them stroking down my body. Thrusting into my heat. Wishing for something more, hungering for his possession. Dear God, I want him so much! His eyes reply the same want.

  He feels the want. He has the same desires. He leans his lips towards my slightly parted pink ones, and nips ever so gently, not once, twice, as he delicately, kisses me. I let him take my lips. He kisses me with a passion that I’ve craved ever since I walked away from that traffic spot in August. I moan into the heat of his mouth. He groans. He clutches me tighter, pulling me almost half way onto his lap, the cloth of his jeans burn into the bareness of my legs.

  None too gently, I rub the top of my pubic area against his right leg. I moan into the heat of his mouth. He takes both of his arms and rubs my back. As he rubs his hands up and down, up and around my back, I can feel the firm, scorching pressure of his hands through the lightness of my dress. The silky material isn’t really a barrier to the imprint of his burning hands. He moves one of his hands, the right one, with his palm and grips my ass-check. Memories flash before my eyes, as I groan into the wickedness of his scorching lips.

  I can’t take the heat, the claiming of his lips on mine anymore and I pull away gasping for air. He lets me as he inhales a huge breath also. I lay my forehead onto his chest. I can hear his heartbeat through the thin cotton tee shirt he’s wearing. His body is so hot against mine. It’s like my skin is on fire. I close my eyes for a second and simply listen to his heartbeat. He still clutches me with both of his huge arms. I could fall asleep in his arms if only that awful heat of desire would leave my loins.

  “Dawn,” he growls my name.

  I hear him. I just don’t want to answer him. I don’t want this mood to end. He clenches my back tighter, pushing my breast closer to the heat coming off his chest. The silk from my dress does nothing to hide the hardness of my nipples. They poke into his chest, two hard nubs, wanting his mouth to suck the hell out of them. I whimper, I can’t control it. I don’t stop it.

  “Answer me,” he demands. His voice firm, direct. Ordering me to respond to his first question.

  “What?” I mumble into the center of his chest. The manly scent of his cologne surrounds my nose. I want to do very naughty stuff to Deputy Gabriel.

  “We have to stop this now. Or I am going to fuck you,” he calmly tells me.

  “And?” I reply.

  “God,” he groans out. “this isn’t the right thing to do.”

  Ah, poor guy. His sense of duty is playing with his cock. He’s better off listening to his cock, I want to tell him, but I don’t. Let him suffer. He made me suffer. But this attraction between the two of us has gone too far now. The allure of his huge nine-inch cock has my pussy ready to feel the burn of it again. What’s the shame in admitting I just want his cock? After all, this is not a romantic anything between the two of us. He wants my pussy as badly as I want his cock. He just can’t admit it. Men are like that sometimes. Denying themselves what they really are after.

  However, us woman usually end up taking the bull by the horns, so to speak. And, we get shit done. We handle it. The shitty diapers, the pile of bills, the dirty laundry, keeping the man - if there is one - happy by keeping his balls empty…you know life. We woman handle life. No matter how romantic, how shitty, how depressing, how peaceful it all may seem. Therefore, I will just grab him by the balls and see where it goes. Why not?

  I pull my head back from his chest, I could stay there all night, and sleep a dreamless night’s sleep if I could. Looking up into Gabriel’s tortured face, I almost feel sorry for the guy, but not after the way he fucked me after that traffic stop. He didn’t feel sorry then. He wanted to own me. He wanted to claim my body. He came in my body. He didn’t stop then, why stop now? I take my right hand, with my fingertips, I rub them gently, softly, down the side of his cheek. The slightest edge of his whiskers, almost hard to see they are so light-colored, so fine in color, rub against the tips of my fingers. I stop at the corner of his mouth, with my index finger, trace around the edge of his red lips.

  “Doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong. We’ve passed that point. You passed that point months ago,” I tell him.

  “It does matter,” he replies.

  “No. Not anymore. You want me, don’t you?” I ask him.

  “Yes,” he mutters.

  “I want you also,” I let him know gently.

  I feel the dampness of my silk panties leaving a spot on his leg, but that’s a good thing. It lets him feel how much I want him. Let’s him know my pussy wants his cock. I can feel his cock, hard, waiting for my touch inside his pants. I don’t touch it. Not yet. Soon. I’m sure he’s dripping wet inside his pants. I rub my clit hard onto his leg. He feels my dampness now. His hands clench behind my back and I know he wants to touch me there. But he controls himself and doesn’t.

  He takes my hand, the one tracing his lips, with his right hand and stops me. He looks at me, blue eyes to blue eyes, and kisses my hand. I pull it away. The heat from his lips branded my hand with intensity. My thighs clench with the terrible passion of wanting to sink onto his cock right now and ride the hell out of him. He must know it. He must feel it.

  “Let’s go somewhere,” he says. “we need to get to each other. Somewhere where I can’t fuck you.”

  I think about it for a moment. It will work. Maybe we need that. Getting to know each other better. But my mind points out my list needs a checkmark. Ah, yes it does. And, then again, my pussy isn’t happy. I know his cock isn’t happy. We can’t have that. Just isn’t happening. At least not the way Gabriel is thinking it will happen.

  “Great idea,” I exclaim. Smiling at him, I pull off his leg, and slide to the part of the couch where I was sitting before he walked through my front door.

  I get up, go over to the bar and reach for my glass of wine. I take a long drink. Sitting my glass back down, I look over at him, and let him know to make his self at home while I go freshen up and get my purse. He shakes his head alright and I walk to my bedroom. I smooth my dress down my legs, thinking I should change, but then again what I want to do is better in a dress. Less hassle, I mutter.

  I look at myself for a moment in the bathroom mirror. My eyes are sparkling, my lipstick gone, my lips puffy red from his kisses, my body anxious for a fuck, his touch. I take my hairbrush and comb my long hair. I then touchup my lips with some pink lipstick. I walk into my closet and grab some black flip flops. Grab my purse, then cell phone and walk out turning off lights as I head back towards the living room and Gabriel.

  He’s leaning back on my couch, his head looking up at the ceiling lost in thought. I can see the outline of his nine-inch cock inside his pants. His hands are laying in his lap. It’s almost climatic just watching him. He’s that sexy. That fuckable. Just gazing at him is a turn-on. He’d be one hell of a catch if a girl could snag him, I think. Too bad I don’t want to snag anyone right now. I feel the lingering tiptoe of guilt as it wanders through my chest. I shouldn’t do it
but I am. He started this whole situation and I’m just going to end it. Nice and hot. Then walk away. No looking back. No wanting him. No more sleepless nights of wanting his touch.

  “I’m ready,” I tell him. He jerks up, he didn’t hear me walk in the room. I feel almost saddened by disturbing him.

  “Okay,” Gabriel replies. “Anywhere special you want to go?”

  “Mm…” I take a moment to think. “Yes, there is.” I tell him. I smile at him, and he smiles back. Goodness, he’s a sexy guy.

  “Where?”

  “Let’s go down to the lake,” I tell him softly.

  “Which one?” He asks. He stands up. I forgot just how tall he is, he looms over me. I look up at, wanting to just grab him and yank something into him. I don’t have a name for it.

  “Hurricane,” I reply.

  “Alright,” he answers.

  I walk to the door, hold it open and step out onto my front porch. He walks out and pulls the door shut. I take my house key and lock my front door. Shutting the glass door, I walk down the steps, and head to his truck. He’s behind me, then in front of me, as he beeps his truck and opens the passenger door for me. I step up onto the rail and pull myself up into the seat. He has a very nice truck. Clean. He takes care of it. No trash, no dirt or dust. I bucket my seat belt, lay my purse at my feet, and watch him walk to his side of the truck.

  Gabriel opens the driver’s side door, and pulls himself up in the seat effortlessly. He cranks the big truck, and the whine of the diesel engine echoes through the quietness of the night. He had the radio on when he pulled up, and the station is playing a popular country song. He reaches over and turns the volume down. He glances over at me, as he puts his seatbelt on. His eyes are questioning mine. I return the questioning gaze with yes let’s go.

  He puts the truck in drive, and pulls out of my yard. At the stop sign, he stops to look for traffic, but he also looks at me again.