Texas Tornado

by Lani Lynn Vale

  I was doing my best just to stay conscious during his sensuous assault. Each brush of his bearded face against my sensitive skin, and the grinding of his hips against my pulsating clit, had me hurdling towards an orgasm that was sure to send me into oblivion.

  Needing to feel more, I ripped my tank top down until my breasts spilled over the top of it, exposing the turgid points of my nipples to the midday sun. “Suck them.”

  I didn’t have to ask though, because his mouth was already pulling one of the tips into the slick heat of his mouth. He sucked hard, pulling back roughly until my nipple burst free of his mouth with a loud pop. He wasted no time in giving my other nipple the same treatment, and I ground myself into the rigid length of him even harder.

  A loud barking from the neighbor’s dog next-door, and the hiss of a cat brought me out of my ecstasy-induced fog, but then James mouth descended, and I found myself divested of shorts and panties, even though my tennis shoes remained firmly in place.

  The tip of James’ tongue ran down my rib cage, past my belly button, and down into the thatch of hair that covered my sex. “You smell like sex.”

  “J-J...” I tried to tell him something, really, I did, but as soon as his tongue found the hard bud of my clit, I couldn’t even remember my own fucking name, let alone tell him what I wanted.

  “J’s good. You can call me J from now on. Nobody else calls me that.” He said, and then went to town on my pussy.

  He devoured me. There was no other word for what he was doing to me. He sucked the juices that were leaking from my core, swallowing them down as fast as I produced them. The thumb on his right hand thrummed my clit with expert precision, and the thumb of his other hand massaged my perineum.

  It wasn’t long before I was so caught up in the feeling of his hands and tongue, that an orgasm blindsided me. Completely off balance, I found myself pulling on his beard again, holding him in place so he wouldn’t stop doing what he was doing.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that we were outside, in broad damn daylight, fucking. Fucking loudly.

  But I didn’t care. I was so far gone, that he could have been doing me in front of the whole damn town and I wouldn’t care.

  Just as I started to come down from my mind-blowing orgasm, I found myself impaled on his cock. Then he was rutting. In and out of me, over and over. His cock slammed into me so hard that now I wasn’t laying on the flat part of the lounger. I was moving up the incline, and he was pressing me down.

  The angle was absolutely delicious. The head of his fat cock worked me perfectly. He hit that spot. The one I’d only read about in magazines. His gaze held mine prisoner, and he watched my eyes as he fucked me into the chair.

  Frustration started to become apparent on his face, because within moments, I found myself nearly folded in two as he brought my legs up to his shoulders, and he leaned in. “Oh, yeah. That’s what I wanted.”

  This position allowed him to go deeper, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not that I would want to or anything. The tip of his leaking cock kissed the entrance to my womb, and with each thrust of his length into me, I took him deeper and deeper.

  His gaze left mine as he bent his head. He watched my breasts jiggle up and down with each of his thrusts.

  Leaning down, he took the tip of one aching nipple into his mouth, and sucked hard.

  With the two sensations, I went wild. My hips tilted into each of his thrusts, allowing him to go impossibly deeper. His teeth bit into my nipple, causing me to buck wildly. Then his free hand that was resting on my ass moved.

  The pad of his thumb brushed my anus.

  The move was startling, but he didn’t stay at the puckered hole for long. Shortly, he moved to the pad of tissue that lay in between, and massaged it with his thumb. He switched breasts, sucking hard once more, and I exploded.

  I gritted my teeth against the urge to scream, and squeezed my eyes so tightly shut that I could have sworn they would bruise.

  His thick cock continued to pound into my over sensitive tissues, but it wasn’t long before he couldn’t stop his own climax. His deep growl against the side of my breast warned me of his impending orgasm, and I squeezed my vaginal muscles tight, and worked his pulsating dick with my inner tissues.

  After a few more short, jerky strokes, he froze. My eyes opened to see his own on mine, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Jesus, you’ve got me folded like an accordion.”

  He looked down at the position of my body, and laughed, pulling out carefully.

  There was no stopping the flow of come that leaked from me, and I made a mental note to clean it up as soon as I got my clothes. Oh, and found the ability to support my own weight.

  “Yeah, I guess I do. You make me crazy.” He laughed as he pushed his semi hard cock back into his jeans, adjusted himself accordingly, zipped up his jeans, and righted his shirt.

  I found my legs able to move, and pulled my bike shorts back up my legs, forgoing the panties seeing as they were ripped in four places. How he’d managed to do that, I don’t know, but I was nowhere near complaining.

  “Your mom probably saw us naked.” I grimaced.

  He disagreed with a shake of his head. “She went to bed nearly an hour ago. That’s why I’m here instead of at Free working. I didn’t want you left alone.”

  I smiled. “Why would you be working at Free if you have a job with SWAT?”

  “I still work there three days a week.” He said with a raised eyebrow.

  “When?” I demanded. “How come I never saw you?”

  “I didn’t want you to.” He explained.

  Once I situated myself, I walked with him in through the back door. He sat down at the table, and I went to my bag, grabbed a new pair of panties and clean shorts, and then changed. He was still sitting in the same spot, however now, he was scowling at something he was reading in the newspaper.

  “What?” I asked as the scowl on his face turned deadly.

  Not saying a word, he handed the paper over, and then tapped his finger at the article that was part of the front page. My own mood plummeted, and I swore savagely. Then I turned around, slammed into the bedroom, grabbed my laptop, plunked down on the bed, and wrote the best letter I’ve ever written in my life.

  I’d even managed to be professional, withholding every single curse word and bad name I had in my vocabulary. I could feel James eyes on me as I typed, but I was so furious, that if I didn’t get it all out and write it all down, that I just might tear someone a new one.

  Twenty minutes, and a five page letter to the editor later, I was exhausted, and near tears. How could someone write something so awful?

  “You okay?” James rumbled from across the room.

  I looked up, and lost it.

  I was enfolded into his arms shortly after, and he held me while I cried. “H-how could someone say something so awful?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “S-she didn’t ask for that. She had such a hard life, and she really turned herself around. She would’ve never purposefully set fire to her apartment and killed herself.” I sobbed.

  He still didn’t say anything, and I didn’t expect him to. He knew Lyle and Nadia’s story. He knew just as well as I did what had happened to her, how traumatized she was. And to think that some reporter thought that just because she’d lived in a halfway house, and was out in a dark alley the night she was raped, that she was asking for it, sickened me.

  Steeling myself, I stiffened my spine, pulled away from James’ safe arms, and dashed the remnants of my tears away from my face. “I’m going to get that reporter fired. She’ll be lucky to work as a freakin’ janitor by the time I get through with her.”

  James smile was quick and hard. “I like the way you think.”

  “God I could kill her with my own bare hands.” I fumed as I stood and paced, contemplating the way my Doc Martin boots would look against the woman’s face.

  “How about we head to Free? Work off some
of that pissed off energy?” James offered.

  “I like how you think, J.” I smiled brightly at him.

  His answering smile warmed me to the tip of my toes.

  Chapter 18

  How to tell a woman is mad at you: 1. She’s silent. 2. She’s yelling. 3. She said ‘whatever’ 4. She acts the same. 5. She acts different. 6. She murdered you.

  -Men’s guide to women

  James

  I winced as Sam dropped Shiloh back to the ground. For the fourth time.

  “You’re not listening. I told you not to drop your shoulder. When you drop it, you lose that extra push that will let you throw your elbow back. Go out, not down.” Sam explained patiently.

  I’d tried to tell her that myself, more than once, but she was stubborn. Even worse than my sister, in fact. I’d given up the instructing to Sam’s impeccable patience, and waited for the fireworks to start.

  “If you weren’t so god forsaken big, I wouldn’t have to worry about dropping my shoulder. You’d be lying at my feet, crying about the loss of your future children. Instead, my elbow just hits a granite slab you call abs, and hurts me instead of you.” Shiloh stomped her foot for emphasis.

  “You think that they’ll go easy on you? Let me tell you a secret. They won’t.” Sam snapped.

  Shiloh’s face darkened, and she made a ‘come on’ gesture with her hands. Sam’s eyes narrowed, and the tick in his cheek gave away his annoyance with his baby sister.

  I, however, found it hilarious. It was nice to see the big man off his game. It wasn’t all the time that you got to see the almighty captain lose it in front of everyone.

  “Again.” Sam snapped.

  Shiloh did as instructed, and even managed to initiate the original move, but Sam’s bulk overpowered her once again.

  “What’s the damn point of this move again?” Shiloh growled from the ground lying flat on her back.

  The door to the room clicked open, and my eyes drew from the blue mats towards the seats in the corner of the room. Everyone was there, watching the show.

  “You’re being a baby. You’re lucky I’m such a good man. I’m going easy on you.” Sam said as he offered her his hand.

  Taking a sip of my Gatorade, I promptly spewed the contents onto the ground in front of me.

  “Shut up. You’ll never be the man your mother is.”

  The bellow of laughter that threatened to burst free from me was smothered when Sam threw Shiloh to the mat, yet again. She hit the hard floor with a thump, and she groaned.

  Once Sam helped her up, she shuffled over to me and snatched the drink out of my hand. She gulped down the contents of the drink, and then thrust the empty bottle back into my hands before turning and staring at her brother with her hands on her hips.

  Sidling up to Shiloh, I gave her a sharp smack on the ass, and then walked towards Sam. “She’s pretty good if she could get over the anger.”

  He nodded in agreement, checked his watch, and then grimaced. “I have to go get Cheyenne from work. I’ll see you at your place for dinner.”

  With that he left, and Shiloh glared at him the entire way.

  “Let’s go, Speedy.” I called to her and gestured with my finger to where I wanted her.

  She came slowly, only wincing every other step.

  I’d used her hard right before we came here, and I felt sorry that I made her do this now. “If you’re too sore, we can leave.” I offered.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Did I say I was too sore?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Then show me how to defend myself.” She harrumphed.

  Thirty exhausting minutes later, we were still in the same place we were earlier, only I was the one losing my patience. Shiloh was sitting on her ass, glaring at me. We’d long ago lost our audience since Shiloh’s attitude only went from bad to horrid. After the third snicker from the peanut gallery, I’d kicked them out.

  “What’s the problem, Shiloh?” I asked, exasperated.

  She pursed her lips, but at my pointed look, she finally explained.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you tried.”

  “What?” She half yelled.

  “You heard me.” I said, laughing at the absurd thought. “That’s why you’ve been only giving me half ass moves?”

  “Yeah,” She said, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “I really could hurt you, you know.”

  “You could try.”

  “What, you don’t think that a woman could bring you down?” She asked.

  “I think that you have a chance to get away, not to completely subdue me. You sure would try, but no matter what, a man is always going to be stronger and faster than any woman.” I said carefully.

  “So let me get this straight,” she said. “You don’t think I can take you down. In fact, you don’t think that any woman could take you down.”

  “Right.” I agreed.

  “What do you want to bet?” She asked.

  I could see the wheels turning in her head, thinking carefully.

  “Anything. You could bet anything. I know for certain you couldn’t incapacitate me for more than a few seconds.”

  I should’ve known. I mean, I knew there were ways that she could take me down. I just didn’t think she knew any yet. I hadn’t gotten that far with her as to teach her those. She wasn’t even learning the most basic form of self-defense. However, in the next instant she proved me wrong.

  “Deal.” She said, and then I watched, as if in slow motion, when her hand snapped out, palm rigid, as she brought it down into a hard, sharp strike against the carotid artery on the side of my neck.

  I came to, seconds later, to find myself staring at the ceiling. I blinked once. Twice, a third time, and then sat up.

  My head was pounding, my back ached, and I turned my head and found Shiloh all the way across the room, a sheepish expression on her face.

  “Does that count?” She asked.

  “Yes,” I said, embarrassed, but also proud as hell that she was able to do that.

  “Where did you learn that move?” I rasped.

  “YouTube.” She supplied instantly.

  I shook my head and muttered. “YouTube.”

  “So what do I have to do?”

  I was sorry that I asked.

  Chapter 19

  There’s not crying in baseball.

  -A League Of Their Own.

  Shiloh

  Tapping the button on the side of my blue tooth headset, I replaced my hands on the wheel, and tilted my head forward so my hair covered the blue tooth device once again.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Ms. Mackenzie?” A strange male’s voice asked from the other end of the line.

  “Yes,” I said hesitantly.

  Looking left, then right, I pulled out into traffic, and headed West to Fourth Street. I was heading to a case’s house, and I was in a hurry. Normally I wouldn’t have even answered the strange number, but James said he’d be calling me from work right about now, and I thought it was him.

  “This is Albert Buchanan with the Longview News. Do you have a few spare moments to speak with me?” He asked.

  “Yes.” I clipped.

  He sighed. “I understand your position on the matter of the article that was printed in our paper on Sunday morning. We’ve retracted it, and had the reporter issue a public apology. I wanted to call and get your permission to print the letter that you sent the editor.” Albert explained.

  “Uhh,” I hesitated.

  I didn’t see anything wrong with it, and if I was being truthful, I wanted the world to know how upset I was that an article like that was written that completely overshadowed the real issue at hand- that a very young woman and her son died in a very horrible way.

  “Yes,” I said firmly. “I’d like that.”

  “Excellent. We’ll be running it in tomorrow’s paper. Please be on the lookout for i
t.” Albert explained.

  After a few more pleasantries, we hung up, and I pulled into the Newman’s driveway. I sighed when I looked at the clock and realized I was still fifteen minutes earlier than our scheduled appointment.

  The Newman’s were a new case. The case itself was fairly routine. Child abuse wasn’t abnormal in today’s society. What was abnormal was for it to be grandparents accused of doing the abuse. Normally, it was the parents being accused and then the children would be relocated with their maternal or paternal grandparents if able.

  The Newman’s case was of two children, ages seven months, and five, reportedly showing up to daycare with unexplained bruises. The daycare official was the one to contact child protective services, and I was called out to the Newman’s house to do an unscheduled well check.

  Forgetting that I was waiting for James’ call, I got out of the car, grabbing my briefcase on the way, and walked swiftly to the front walk. After several knocks, the door was cracked open, and a grizzly voice emerged.

  “What you want?” The man asked.

  “Hello,” I said to the door. “I’m Shiloh Mackenzie with child protective services. May I come in?” I asked authoritatively.

  “No.” He snapped, and then slammed the door in my face.

  I sighed.

  Normally, right about now, I would call the police to ask for assistance, but for some reason, my inner warning meter had taken a detour, and I didn’t use the opportunity to call for assistance like I should have. Instead, I knocked again.

  When the door opened this time, I got a face full of shotgun.

  “Get inside. Now.” The old man demanded as he flung the door open wide.

  Not knowing what else to do, I woodenly followed his instructions. When I crossed the threshold, the first thing I saw was the massive amount of firearms spaced sporadically throughout the house. In Texas, it’s normal for people to have firearms.