Going Commando

by Catherine Chernow

  Susie gave him a thin smile. “Hi Charlie. Th-this is my friend, Shyra.”

  He looked Shyra up and down, his glassy eyes taking her measure.

  He’s high as a kite…

  Charlie narrowed his eyes. “Yo, how come I never met you before?”

  Shyra leaned against the car, assuming a relaxed stance. “Susie and I met a couple of months ago.”

  “You were in jail, Charlie. Shyra helped me with the baby.”

  “Yeah, well, nice meetin’ you!”

  He took off down the street.

  “Fuck!” Shyra tore after him.

  She flipped open her cell phone and two-wayed Derek. “He’s running! I’ve got him covered.”

  “Goddamn it, just stay put, Shyra!”

  “I can’t.” She panted as she ran, never taking her eyes off Sanchez. “The girlfriend tipped him off and now he’s getting away!”

  She flipped the cell phone closed and picked up her pace, her feet flying across the pavement.

  —

  Meanwhile, Derek, Mike, and the rest of the team rode the elevator down. When they got outside, they spotted the girlfriend, ready to pull away from the apartment building.

  Hanging onto the car, Mike stopped her, making her pull the car back to the curb.

  He dragged her from the car, the baby screaming in the back.

  “Where is he?” he ground out.

  She pointed a shaking finger. “Th-that way.”

  Derek cursed under his breath, fear clogging his throat. His cell phone rang.

  “I’ve got him! Almost there, Derek, he’s—”

  The connection went dead.

  “Move it!” he shouted to Mike and their companions.

  Derek’s heart was in this throat.

  If Sanchez hurt one hair of curly hair on Shyra’s head, he’d kill him, and wouldn’t bat an eye.

  Chapter Three

  “You prick!” Shyra got up from the sidewalk, her knees wobbly.

  She thanked her lucky stars she didn’t hit her head on the cement when Sanchez pushed her to the ground. Her knees and hands felt raw; they hurt like a son of a bitch.

  “Goddamn it, stop!” She screamed.

  Sanchez continued his trek, dodging cars as he sprinted across the street.

  Fueled by anger and adrenaline, Shyra pursued him. She flew across the street; grateful the traffic passed, and eventually caught up to Sanchez. When she was about two feet away, she took a flying leap and jumped on his back, tackling him to the ground.

  A few moments later, Derek showed up with Mike and the other bounty hunters.

  Derek pushed her away then hauled Sanchez to his feet.

  “The fucking bastard knocked me down,” Shyra told him.

  Derek’s eyes blazed. He lifted Sanchez by his shirt. They were nose-to-nose. “You’re an asshole, Sanchez.” He shook him. “We’re never going to forget this.”

  Mike slapped his handcuffs on Sanchez. He glanced at Shyra. “You okay?”

  She looked down at the ripped knees of her pants. “A few scrapes.”

  Derek released Sanchez. “Get him to the police station. I want to talk to Shyra… alone.”

  Mike nodded. The other bounty hunters clapped Shyra on the back. One shook her hand. They all murmured words of praise and ‘good job.’

  They hustled Sanchez into the car, and drove off.

  Shyra turned to face Derek. He was leaning against his SUV, ankles crossed, his arms folded across his chest.

  His dark sunglasses concealed his eyes.

  She was grateful for small favors.

  —

  Derek helped her into his truck, his eyes straying to her scraped palms and the holes in the knees of her pants. She reached for the seatbelt, but he beat her to it, drawing it gently across her chest.

  “I need to know if I should take you to the hospital.” His voice was soft but it had an edgy, tension-filled tone.

  She shook her head. “I-I’m fine, really, just… where are we going?”

  He braced one booted foot on the running board, snapping her seat belt into place. “We could have our little ‘chat’ back at the office, or at my house. The choice is yours. However,” he continued, his foot still on the running board, one hand on his thigh, the other on his hip. “You’ll be mighty embarrassed if we talk at the office.”

  She angled her chin. No way would she cower in front of him!

  “Your house is fine.”

  He nodded, shutting the door, its slam like the peal of a death toll.

  Derek never removed his sunglasses when he was angry.

  It was a ploy he used with the felons they hauled in, and now, apparently, he was using it on her.

  They rode in silence for the twenty minutes it took Derek to meander through the traffic. When they pulled up in his driveway, Shyra got out, her legs shaky.

  Derek placed his palm against the small of her back and guided her, or rather, herded her up the driveway to the front door of his ranch-style home.

  He unlocked the door and punched in his security code while Shyra stepped into the blessed coolness. She made a beeline for one of the chairs in the den, her legs giving out.

  Derek walked past her, disappearing down a hallway. He came back a few moments later with cotton balls, gauze, peroxide, and a bottle of brandy. He placed everything on a table next to her chair.

  Shyra trembled violently, her breath hitching.

  “I-I’m freezing.” She grabbed hold of her upper arms, running her palms up and down in an attempt to warm her body.

  Derek strode over to the thermostat. The air conditioner stopped blowing immediately.

  He walked back over and squatted down in front of her chair. Removing his sunglasses, she got a good look at his face, set in tight, angry lines.

  “Derek, look, I—”

  “Save it.” His tone was clipped. He reached for her right pant leg, rolling it up from the ankle, stopping about midway. “Your adrenaline rush is wearing off. That’s why you’re cold.” His voice held no warmth, either.

  He rose to his full height, his dark hair brushing lean, fit shoulders.

  She wanted to lay her head against one of them and cry. Shyra never got weepy, but now that’s all she wanted to do. She watched as he uncapped the brandy bottle, handing it to her. Sipping it carefully, lest it burn her throat, she reveled in the warmth that filled her.

  “Take off your pants.” His voice sounded gruff.

  “I…what?” She just stared at him, her mouth open.

  He grabbed the bottle, placing it on the table then tapped her chin with his index finger. “I said, take off your pants. If you don’t, I’ll have to pull your pants legs over your knees. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He was doing that already, she thought sullenly, by speaking to her in that harsh, clipped tone.

  She had dreamed of removing her pants and showing Derek the sensual treat between her legs, but now…

  “Well?” he asked.

  She sighed. Sometimes, life played the most ironic tricks.

  She rose to her feet, and unzipped her pants, tugging them down her hips, thighs and legs. Her trousers lay draped around her ankles, a pool of black material at her feet.

  Derek caught her around the waist while she stepped out of them.

  “Are you satisfied?” She choked back a sob, pushing away from his embrace.

  Damn, but she wouldn’t cry in front of him.

  “Satisfied?” He shook his head. “Right now, I’m battling an urge to haul you over my lap and spank the daylights out of you.”

  She tried for some levity, in part to distract herself from his heated gaze… and his anger. “How about you do that later, when you’re not so mad? It might be fun.”

  “Fun?” He thundered. The glasses in the cabinet across the room shook.

  Shyra backed away from him.

  “Do you call what happened this morning… fun?” He advanced.

  She backed up. “I cal
l it doing my job.”

  Oh, this really sucks! Arguing with him while she was half naked…

  Then again, if she played her cards right, she could definitely sway the balance of power.

  He kept walking toward her. Shyra took off and darted behind the chair.

  “Sit down.” He pointed to the chair.

  “Say, ‘please.’” She folded her arms across her chest.

  “Please,” he growled back.

  She scooted into the chair.

  Derek reached for the cotton balls and peroxide, his eyes looking everywhere but at her smoothly shaven mound.

  Shyra tried to hide her smile when she opened her legs to give him a better view.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled as he bathed her scraped knees with the moist wad of cotton.

  “My thought, exactly.”

  “Shyra.” He swabbed her right knee. “I mean it, if you don’t stop, I’m going to beat your ass.”

  She leaned back in the chair, grinning, the brandy making her head spin. “I didn’t know you were into such kinky stuff.”

  “And I didn’t know”, he reached for a clean cotton ball, wetting it with the peroxide, “that you were so goddamned stupid as to go after a convicted felon by yourself. A druggie, for chrissake!” He reached for her hands, turning them palm side up, and then bathed them with the peroxide.

  She shook her head. “I thought it would sting.”

  He glanced up, his face softening. “I’m glad it doesn’t.”

  She blew out a breath, tears clogging her throat when she heard his tender tone.

  He reached for the gauze. She stopped him, placing her hand over his. “I-I don’t want gauze. I want… to talk.”

  Derek rose to his feet. “Get your pants on.”

  She lifted her legs onto the chair, scooting further back so that she could sit Indian style.

  “What in hell are you doing?”

  “I’m not budging from this chair until you listen to me.”

  He turned around, hands on his hips. “Get your pants on.”

  “No, I’m celebrating National No Undies Day, remember? I’m going commando.”

  Leaning down, he caged her into the chair, his hands braced on the arms. He gritted his teeth. “Don’t push me, Shyra.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do! Push you. To your limits. I want you to stop denying that you want me.”

  His eyes widened. “Is that what that little stunt you pulled with Sanchez was about? To get my attention?”

  “No.” She clenched her jaw, grabbing his hand, placing it between her legs. “This is to get your attention.”

  His eyes smoldered. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he didn’t remove his hand from between her legs.

  “I did my job this morning, Derek.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  His fingers gently stroked her pussy.

  Shyra’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head.

  “You could have gotten killed.” His voice sounded rough, strained. “Me, Mike and the rest of the team are the muscle… you’re the brains, the sweet talker.”

  She purred as his fingers toyed with her clit. “Is that sweet enough for you?”

  He pulled his hand away. “I’m taking you home.”

  She grabbed his arm, feeling bereft.

  “One time, that’s all I’m asking, Derek. Make love to me just this once, and then it’ll be out of our systems.”

  His tanned face flushed bright red, his breathing ragged.

  In one swift movement, he reached down, lifting her in his arms.

  He strode down the hallway.

  Shyra clung to him for dear life, turning her head so he wouldn’t see her satisfied smile.

  —

  Derek stripped out of his clothes, popping the buttons of his shirt as he tore it from his body. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted Shyra.

  He managed to help her take off her shirt. His hands shook while he unfastened her bra, watching her full breasts spill into his hands. Taking each one into his mouth, he paid them homage, tenderly kissing the tops, working his way down to her brown-tipped nipples, which he laved with the tip of his tongue.

  Shyra moaned, arching her back, shoving her ample breasts into his waiting mouth. She was a tantalizing mix of toughness, sensitivity, humor, and light. When he was around her, he felt as though bright sunshine poured into his empty soul.

  Shyra lifted her legs, planting her feet firmly on the mattress.

  “Eat me.” She crooned in his ear. “Make me your lunch.”

  He laughed. “My pleasure.”

  Derek trailed his mouth down Shyra’s belly, stopping just above her smooth shaven mound. He rested his lips on her pubic bone, sliding the tip of his tongue across it, just enough to graze across the top of her clit.

  Shyra squirmed, grinding her backside into the mattress.

  “More, lick me more.”

  He smiled. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

  “Screw that,” she moaned, grabbing handfuls of his hair. “I’ve dreamed of this, Derek. I want your mouth on my pussy, now.”

  Chuckling, he replied. “My, my, aren’t we insatiable.”

  She lifted her head. “You’ve got lots of time to make up for.”

  He raised a brow. “Oh really?” Derek slid beside her. Cupping the side of his head with his hand, he stretched out his legs, purposely bumping hers.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asked.

  He smiled. “For you to tell me how much I’ve got to make up for.”

  She reached out to pull his head down to her thighs, but he stopped her.

  “Show me how much I have to do.”

  “Huh?” She blinked, brushing some hair from her eyes.

  “You show me what you want me to do to you.”

  “I—” Her eyes widened then a sly grin lit her beautiful, wide face. “Okaaaaaaaay, Mr. Smarty pants. But you can’t touch me. You’ll just have to watch.”

  He nodded, anticipation coursing through him. Every nerve ending in Derek’s body felt as though it were a little flame.

  Shyra sat up and rolled to her knees. Flipping her long curly hair over one shoulder, she reached down between her legs and stroked the little pearl of flesh between her thighs. Moistening the fingers of her other hand, she toyed with her breasts, cupping them, sliding the pad of her thumb across each one.

  Derek could hardly contain himself. He sat on the bed, mesmerized by her sensual actions, and by the way her breasts gleamed in the soft light.

  Resting her weight on one hand behind her hip, her clit lay swollen and fully exposed to his eyes. She stroked it once, twice, three times…

  Her low moan was almost his undoing.

  She let go of her clit long enough to rise up on her knees and pass her hands over her breasts. Then she got on all fours and turned around, exposing her nicely rounded bottom.

  He was so hot and bothered he wanted to take her right then and there, his promise not to touch her making him want her even more.

  She wiggled her fanny then spread her legs. He gazed between her thighs and watched her reach down, where she fingered her labia.

  Shyra threw her head back. “Oh my God, Derek, please take me now. Hard!”

  He didn’t have to be told twice. Derek took her from behind, inserting his cock inside her. She was hot, wet and tight. He moaned as he pumped into her, bringing them both to climax, his big body shuddering when he came inside her.

  Derek didn’t pull out. He held onto her.

  “Did you come?” he whispered against her ear.

  She ground her backside against him. “Yes, and I want to again.”

  He chuckled. “Give me a minute to recoup.”

  “You’ve got thirty seconds.”

  He slapped her bottom.

  “Twenty.”

  That earned her another smack.

  His shaft grew, the feeling exquisite torture as the walls of her channel spasme
d around him. He pushed in, then out, his rhythm even and slow.

  “I like it hard and fast.”

  “This time,” he murmured next to her ear. “It’s going to be slow… and you’re going to like it.”

  He watched her entire body flush.

  She tossed her head over her shoulder. “Don’t think you can give me orders.”

  He ground his hips against her, driving into her further… then pulling out slowly.

  She moaned. “Hurry,” she intoned. “More. Harder!”

  He leaned down and smacked her right butt cheek.

  “Ooooooooooooh God, Derek! That feels…”

  SMACK!

  “Wonderful.” She purred.

  She bucked against him, but he held her, reaching around to caress her clit with the tips of his index and middle fingers.

  “Derek!” she screamed his name, collapsing on the bed.

  Derek slid up to rest beside her, pulling her close. He kissed her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks…

  Soon, they both fell asleep, the only sound the ticking of the clock.

  Derek drifted into slumber, realizing Shyra was wrong.

  Once wasn’t enough. Twice wasn’t, either.

  He didn’t think he could ever get enough of her.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Shyra entered the offices of Derek Grayson Bounty Hunters.

  Her dark glasses firmly in place, she hoped like hell that it would hide the dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t get a wink of sleep the previous night. Before Derek’s boys returned home, he whisked her off to her house, where she spent the remainder of the day ‘recuperating’ as per Derek’s orders…

  And thinking about him.

  One time—that’s all she had wanted or needed with Derek—but that one time had fueled her desire for a whole lot more.

  She’d always been tough. Her youth had been a chaotic mess of going from place to place with a mother who claimed she was a ‘free spirit.’

  Yeah, right…

  Damn, but she wasn’t supposed to form an attachment to Derek. She was to scratch her sexual itch, and get him out of her system.

  She’d not only had his cock burrowed deep, she’d had - him. Their frenzied coupling had awakened some deep-seated need…

  Permanence.

  She wanted to stop running, to stop going from place to place. Emotionally, she had done that, too, telling herself that’s the way she liked her life: free. That’s why she shed her panties, to feel liberated, to catch Derek and reel him in and get what she wanted from him.