Deuces Wild

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Deuces Wild Page 7

by Christina C Jones


  “Wait, back up,” I said, stepping toward him. “Was that… were you serious? You found a woman with that tattoo, or you were just trying to get a reaction?”

  He frowned. “No… we definitely found someone.”

  “Someone?” Out of nowhere, my voice was cracking in my throat as I tried to hold myself together without letting it show on my face. “It wasn’t… her, was it? The woman in my picture? Please, I—”

  “It wasn’t her,” he assured me, his tone suddenly different – suddenly soothing. “The victim was Caucasian. Blue eyes. Definitely not your woman from the picture.”

  “Did… does she have a scar on her thigh?”

  Cree’s eyes went wide, and he nodded. “… yes. How the hell did you know that?”

  Shaking my head, I started easing backward. “I… excuse me, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Before he could catch me, I was off. If I’d actually been trying to get away, I would’ve easily left him in my dust, but lucky for him, I really did feel sick. I moved straight to my kitchen sink with him on my heels, watching as I alternated between splashing my face with cold water and gulping it straight from the sink.

  Today was, simply put, overwhelming.

  “I need you to start talking, Alicia,” Cree said, from right beside me. Finally, after a moment, I looked up, waiting for him to ask me the question I’d been struggling to come to terms with all night. And once he had my eyes on him, he did. “Who is the woman in your picture?”

  “I don’t know,” I told him, truthfully, even though he shook his head, and scoffed. “But I think… I think she’s my sister.”

  Cree’s eyes squinted into a scowl. “How do you think somebody is your sister? It’s a pretty simple yes or no.”

  “Except when it’s not,” I snapped. “I’m not about to discuss this with you anyway.”

  “Oh yes the hell you are.” Instantly it seemed, he closed the gap between us, his expression stern as he looked me in the face. “I’m serious, Alicia. I’m… shit, I’m trying to meet you halfway, but you have to give me something here. You know things you shouldn’t about my murder victim, who happens to have the same tattoo as your sister, who happens to have the same tattoo as our missing trafficking victim – who I suspect you’ve been in contact with, and know exactly where she is. Whatever is going on here, you cannot handle alone. And you don’t have to try.”

  I let out a dry laugh as I angled away from him, leaning back against the counter. “Who exactly is going to help me Detective Bradley? You?”

  “Yeah, me,” he frowned. “Why the hell not?”

  “I don’t know, maybe because a big chunk of your precinct is on a paid vacation right now because they’ve been implicated in a huge solicitation sting. Wasn’t the captain of your vice squad fucking underaged girls?”

  He opened his mouth, but couldn’t bring himself to defend his corrupt colleagues – which actually raised my opinion of him – so he shut it again before he could find something to say. “I’m not them. I don’t condone that shit, and wouldn’t have sat on it if I had known. I would’ve put cuffs on his ass myself. Do you believe that?”

  I took my time lifting my eyes to his, but I nodded. “Yeah, Cree. I do. But that’s not enough. What happens if I tell you this girl’s name, you run it through the system, and boom – it’s seen by one of the very men who assaulted her? Maybe even the one who…” I paused for a breath. “The one who gave her the baby she decided to terminate today. She is a baby herself! And those men – not just the ones like Roach, who are easy to pin the “creep” label on, but the ones… the ones like you. With a badge, and nice shoes, and a respectable haircut, and a gun. They preyed on her, and they prey on hundreds, and thousands of other little girls like her, and I… I couldn’t protect her.” I swiped my hands over my face, trying to wipe away the hot, fat tears that had started before he noticed, but of course there was no getting around that.

  Before I could compose myself, he was back in my face, and in my personal space, looking me in the eyes and cupping his hands under my elbows as I crossed my arms. “Alicia…”

  “Why are you saying my name like that?” I sniped, but – inexplicably – didn’t pull away from his touch. “Is this one of your interview tactics or something? You think I don’t see right through all of this?”

  “I think that you don’t recognize a genuine attempt at comforting you – maybe because no one has ever offered you that, maybe because you’ve never needed it,” he said, using his thumb to wipe my cheek. “I think you are upset, because of what happened with that young girl today – and that’s probably the only reason you’re letting me touch you right now. And I think… that maybe you’re losing your touch or something, because you haven’t realized that I don’t have a gun or badge on me, because I’m not here in any official capacity – because you’re right. Something is off at Metro, and I would like to know where the smell is coming from.”

  I shook my head. “But you definitely implied that you would arrest me.”

  “I never said that,” he defended himself with a grin. “That was how you interpreted my—”

  “Your attempt to scare me into talking,” I finished for him. “But you know better.”

  He nodded. “I do. Know you don’t scare easily.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Noted… for about the 25th time,” he chuckled, moving just a little further into my personal space, enough now that our bodies were touching. “So tell me… what will it take to get you talking?”

  I met his eyes, holding his gaze to make sure there was no room for ambiguity with what I said next. “Right now… I’m more interested in what it’ll take to get you to shut up.”

  His eyebrows went up. “I hope you don’t think I can be bribed into dropping this, Ms. Miller.”

  “I don’t. But you said you were trying to comfort me, right?”

  One eyebrow went higher. “Yeah. So…?”

  “So shut up and fuck me, Detective Bradley.”

  “Don’t toss out those kinda statements unless you’re prepared for me to take you up on them,” he warned in a low growl as he pressed into me, dropping his hands to my hips. I was in nothing but leggings, tank, and a sports bra – thin layers that did nothing to keep me from feeling the evidence of his arousal against my stomach.

  “I expect you to take me up on it,” I said – whispered, caught off guard by the suddenness of his hands gripping my ass, pulling me into him.

  I sucked in a breath as his mouth dropped to my neck, licking a trail from my jaw to my collarbone and then back up the other side, to my ear. “Then why the hell do you still have your panties on?”

  The drag of his skin against mine drew a moan from my lips as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my leggings, pulling them down and taking my panties with them. He knelt all the way to the floor, unlacing and removing my sneakers, even taking my socks off before he pulled my leggings and panties over my feet to toss them away.

  But he didn’t get up from the floor.

  He moved to his knees, a position that put his face right at the meeting of my thighs.

  “Wait,” I breathed, as he gently eased my legs apart. “You don’t have to dooo—ahhh goddamnit.” I couldn’t even get my misguided protest past my lips before his tongue was breaching my lower ones. With one hand, he spread me open for better access while he used the other to push long, thick fingers into me.

  My legs buckled and I tipped forward, but a strong arm locked around my thighs, keeping me from falling over. I planted one hand on his shoulder, the other on top of his head as his tongue darted over my slick flesh and the thick hairs of his beard tickled my thighs.

  “Wait,” I begged again as he stopped just long enough to hook one of my thighs over his shoulder, knowing I needed a moment to collect myself before he returned his mouth to my skin. Once again though, he ignored it, opting to go after me harder, sucking on my clit as he buried his face between my legs.

/>   “Cree, please.”

  That cry left my lips before I could stop it, as he hooked those fingers in me, pressing at a spot that made it hard to think. I had no idea what I was even asking him, but he gave the correct response, pulling back just enough for me to see his eyes as he licked me again, then smirked as his fingers kept moving.

  “Just relax, and don’t hold back. It’s coming.”

  “It”, apparently meaning me, because as soon as he covered my clit with his mouth, going after me with his tongue, my legs went weak again as I came, in spasms that made it impossible to keep myself up. But just as before, Cree’s strong arms came to my rescue even as they worked against me – locking me in place as he kept after my over-sensitive flesh, making the orgasm go on, and on, and on.

  He chuckled as he gingerly unhooked my thigh from his shoulder and then stood, forcing me to grip the sides of the counter to hold myself up. Once he was on his feet again, I noticed the wallet in his hands, and then the condom he pulled out of it.

  I could only imagine what he was thinking – he said nothing, just smirked like a jackass as he pulled himself from his boxers. His dick was a beautiful deep bronze, a shade or so darker than his skin. Long. Thick. Exactly the kind of latex-covered comfort I needed, but simultaneously hated myself, and him, for wanting.

  I wasn’t supposed to be this… weak, sex-driven bitch.

  I was supposed to be stronger than this, supposed to be ripping his clothes off and riding him until his legs were weak, not… whatever this was.

  But all the same, I silently acquiesced to being lifted onto my kitchen counter and having my legs spread open to accept him. I hooked my thighs around his hips, moaning as he sank into me with a slow, deliberately sort of stroke that made me close my eyes. I pulled his hoodie over his head, and then the ribbed tank he wore underneath, wanting to see and touch him, but silently chiding myself for it.

  I let desire overrule common sense, and refused to feel bad for it.

  Let him pull my tank top off, and push my bra up to expose my small breasts, threw my head back, let my mouth hang open as he sucked my nipples and – “Ahhh!” I screamed, as a jolt of pleasure rushed through me as he pulled my nipple between his teeth.

  His hips rocked into me, hard and fast, so good that I couldn’t help squirming against the counter as he stroked me. My short fingernails dug into his shoulders, his dug into my ass cheeks as he gripped me harder, fucked me harder, so good that I wasn’t even on the counter anymore – he had me suspended in the air, but never lost rhythm.

  It took a moment for me to realize we were moving, but he was already lowering me to the couch by the time I recognized where we were.

  Somehow, he went deeper.

  Impossibly, unbearably, deliciously deeper, and faster, and so good that I felt zero qualms about moaning, whining, screaming his name as he dug into me. His hands came to my face, turning me a little – a move that made me open my eyes just in time to see his face coming toward mine. I turned away, evading his attempted kiss, but I should’ve known that wouldn’t be the end of it. He immediately turned me back to him, covering his mouth with mine in a kiss that made me want to not ever stop being kissed, which was exactly what I was afraid of.

  His tongue was hot and skillful, dipping in and out of my mouth with precision, stopping in between for soft presses of his lips to mine, teasing nips with his teeth, and long, sex-flavored sweeps that only made me feel hotter.

  “Oh, God,” I whimpered, on the verge of sobbing when he slipped a hand between us, putting fingers to my swollen clit, placing the proverbial cherry on top of my overwhelming overstimulation, sending me careening into an orgasm that left my ears ringing.

  His other hand was gripping my ass, squeezing tight as he drove into me, chasing his own peak. With the last of my strength, I locked my legs around him, keeping him tight against me as he let loose into the condom, hips pumping in tandem with animalistic grunts that, somehow, turned me on even more, which at this point just felt like overkill, but screw it.

  This was amazing.

  And I wasn’t complaining.

  Not even when he easily scooped me up from the couch, following my weakly-delivered directions to my bedroom. Not even when he deposited me under the covers, went to the bathroom and then came back, sliding underneath them with a hard dick in a fresh condom. Not even when he rolled me onto my side after peeling me out of that sports bra in the dark, easing into me from behind with his arm around my waist. Or even when he grabbed my chin, angling me so he could give me another one of those common-sense defying kisses while he slow-stroked me in my bed.

  While he got into my head.

  But I wasn’t complaining.

  Six

  When I opened my eyes, my first thought was that maybe I was still dreaming.

  That had to be the case, as waking up naked in Alicia Miller’s bed seemed something like an impossibility, no matter how real it felt. No matter how vividly I felt the warmth of her thighs braced on either side of my torso, her hands pressed against my chest.

  I blinked, clearing the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes, and the soft brush of hair against my shoulder drew my gaze upward. Reminded me of undoing that damn braid the night before while I was buried in her from behind, while she couldn’t argue against it, because I’d never seen her with her hair down. There it was – thick, messy curls that fell all the way to her waist, but were currently draped over her shoulder, landing on mine.

  Sun streamed from the window, filtering through her hair to make a sort of halo effect that contributed to my disbelief of this scenario. Her pussy was against my stomach – warm, wet, ready to go, and while my dick was on board, my brain was screaming that this was too good to be true.

  When my gaze finally made it to her face, I realized I was right.

  I didn’t see lust in her expression – I saw homicide.

  She was looking at me like I was an unwelcome intruder in her home, and while that may have been the case now, it certainly hadn’t been in the wee hours of the morning, when I’d washed her back in the shower and then taken her in the shower, and had to wash up again before I invited myself into the fresh linens on her bed.

  Last night, she’d been… a different woman. Maybe one she wanted to be, or hated to let out, or whatever. Now, she was back to the Alicia Miller I knew and… admired.

  At least, when I wasn’t on the receiving end of a death glare, like now.

  “Ali—”

  “Stop,” she said, barely above a whisper, shaking her head. “Don’t ruin it, not yet.”

  Don’t ruin what? I thought, but didn’t say, opting to remain quiet and wait – something not enough people knew the value of these days.

  My choice paid off.

  Her eyes remained on mine at first as she moved down my legs, letting the warmth of her pussy brush over my dick as she went. When she was near my knees, she stopped, repositioning so that she was only straddling one of my legs before she pushed her hair to one side.

  And then she leaned forward.

  “Holy fuck,” I breathed out loud, taken off guard by the sudden bliss of her hot mouth on me, swallowing me very nearly to the root. My hands went to her hair, pushing it out of the way again – if I’d left it braided, like she wanted, it wouldn’t have been obstructing my view.

  And what a goddamn view it was.

  She’d always been strikingly beautiful. Sexy. Dangerously so.

  But this?

  This was something on a whole other level of goodness, watching her try to swallow me whole, seeing her fingers wrapped around me, feeling each and every little flick of her tongue, experiencing the bliss of her attempts to suck me dry, it was… pretty phenomenal.

  As if she’d read my mind, she looked up, wearing a slight grin as she used the messy residual moisture from her mouth to jack me off. Last night, sex had been a bit of a power struggle, and I’d won – I had to, with a woman like Alicia, to kill any ideas about what the dynami
c would be going forward.

  Now though?

  I’d proven my point already, so I was content to let her use me like she wanted, especially if waking up like this was going to be standard. I was secure enough in my manhood to be told to shut up and take it and understand that it was a goddamned win. So good of a win that I had no misgivings about moaning like a bitch when she leaned in to suck my balls into her mouth. Felt exactly zero shame about my toes curling damn near backward when she came back to my dick, taking me all the way down her throat and sucking hard, not bothering to come up for air when I warned her that an eruption was coming her way.

  She just looked up with the same smirk from before, wiping her mouth as she climbed up my legs. I was already hard again, already ready for her when she sank onto me. It wasn’t as if I was going to ask her to get up no matter her answer, but I did push up into a seated position as she rode me, looking her in the face to ask about birth control – something I hadn’t questioned in the shower, choosing to test my pull-out game instead.

  “Do you really think I’d be on you right now if there was a chance of it ending in pregnancy?” she asked, brushing her hair forward over her shoulder again as she rocked her hips into me.

  I shook my head. “Not really, but figured I should at least ask.”

  “Well now you know.”

  I refrained from saying I didn’t actually know shit, and that she’d actually just launched a thousand questions in my mind. Instead, I palmed her ass cheeks, taking advantage of the opportunity for full access to the body that was even more of a wet dream than what I’d imagined underneath her clothes.

  She was athletic, of course – with a job like hers, she had to be strong, fast, flexible, all of that. Even though she was slim, and toned, she was soft in all the right places, and I wasn’t about to miss any moment enjoying that body because I was absorbed in shit that didn’t matter.

  I brought my face to hers, teasingly catching her lip between my teeth, making her smile before she leaned in to kiss me. Last night, I’d practically had to pin her down to get her mouth, but now she was all into it, damn near attacking me.

 

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