by Marika Ray
I must have nodded off at some point, the exhaustion of a work day plus a baseball game tipping my head back and shutting my eyes. A loud truck firing up nearby woke me with a start, my neck screaming at me for sleeping without a proper pillow. I had to blink and rub my eyes to believe what I saw out my windshield.
Oakley stood right outside the front door to Hell’s Tavern, her breathalyzer in hand, while she made every single member of our department blow before they could go to their cars. I barked out a laugh and massaged that ache in my chest. Fuck. How could I walk away from her before I even fully got to know her? Before I saw her with her hair down and her defenses crumbled? Before she screamed my name and ran her nails down my back? I knew without a doubt if someone asked me in twenty years if there’d ever been a woman in my life who’d gotten away, I would think of Oakley Waldo.
After she’d tested every single officer, including Sheriff Locke who didn’t pass and had to ride home with Betty when Oakley put her foot down, I followed Oakley home, waiting to go to sleep until I saw the light turn on in her bedroom. Tomorrow was our day off, and I intended to use the full twenty-four hours to decide what to do about my lovesick situation. A new plan for my life was forming, even if it now sounded sad and lonely. I had a feeling I’d need to get my resume ready and my bags packed.
There was just no way I’d compromise Oakley’s job, knowing it meant the world to her. Some people were meant for happy, loving families, and some people weren’t. The heartache only came when you forgot which camp you fell into and allowed hope to bloom.
13
Oakley
* * *
I shouldn’t have blown all my colleagues.
That came out better in my head. But really, I just pulled the breathalyzer out to test my own blood alcohol level and then figured I should watch out for everyone else. Coming off weeks of sexual teasing and torture from my partner, I’d taken my bubbling frustration out at the bar with champagne. The boys had all had beer, but they’d kept the glasses of champagne coming for me.
I would picture Wyatt handing me the newspaper without a shirt on and that annoying little smirk. Drink.
The way his hands had gripped me tight when we kissed. Drink.
The way he insisted the real thing was better than my toys. Drink.
The fact that I’d felt what he was packing and knew he’d be better than that stupid dildo. Drink.
Before you knew it, we were all heading home, and I was just barely below the legal limit. I climbed on my Grom and fired it up, supremely grateful that tomorrow was a day off. I wasn’t a regular drinker and could only imagine tomorrow would come with a hangover.
Lights flicked on behind me as soon as I turned out of the parking lot of the bar. A glance in my mirror told me a large truck was following me.
Fucking Wyatt.
He was following me home again. He’d been doing it every night after work, thinking I didn’t notice. I was a cop. Of course I noticed I had a tail. When he hadn’t shown up at the bar, I’d been both disappointed and relieved, a confusing mix of emotions for a girl who saw the world as black and white. Wyatt was confusing in general. I’d had male friends before, but not one of them had flirted with me to the point it turned me inside out. I was either pissed off or turned on with very little in between, which made doing my damn job difficult.
I turned into my driveway a little too fast, slamming to a stop and hopping off a foot before the carport. Making sure to stomp my feet, I headed into my house and slammed the door, not at all satisfied with my tantrum. The lights were all out as I went upstairs, but I was blazing hot enough to light up the block. I flopped down on the bed with my helmet still on, stewing over my situation.
How dare Wyatt confuse me like this? How dare he disrupt my perfectly put-together life? Who did he think he was, the city boy storming into my small town and shaking everything up? How dare he follow me home like he has some right to watch over me? I didn’t need him or his overprotective habits!
I wrestled with my helmet and finally threw it down on my bedroom floor. Heading back downstairs. I yanked the door open again, stomping off into the night, fueled by anger and bubbly and very little forethought. My sister Amelia was often a loose cannon, a personality type I didn’t understand, but in the dead of the night as I kept my gaze on Wyatt’s front door like I could burn it down with my superpowers, I understood her just a little better. I was pissed.
And tipsy.
The next thing I knew my fist was banging on his door and he was whipping it open fully naked with his gun drawn and pointing at my feet.
And he was happy to see me.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a rush, looking over my shoulder and then back at my face, confusion evident.
Fuck me. The man was built. Long, muscular legs with thighs a professional athlete would envy. A light dusting of hair that led my gaze right to his thick cock, currently pointing right at me.
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” I whispered in a daze.
A strangled noise hit my ears, but I ignored it, too intent on looking my fill. The man had those muscles over his hip bones. The ones that made a woman lose her mind. The kind I wanted to lick.
“Did you just introduce yourself to my dick?” Wyatt asked incredulously, the hand not currently holding the gun appearing in my line of sight to cover himself. Holy cannoli, he couldn’t do it. The cock was too long for his hand. Wyatt had the holy grail of cocks.
My gaze fluttered up, and my head swam. What was I doing here again? I caught a whiff of his cologne and it set my gut on fire. It also made me remember why I was here.
I was mad.
Also highly turned on right now, but dammit, I was angry.
I pointed a finger at his chest, wishing it were touching skin further south. “You sent me a dildo.”
He backed up a step and set his gun down on a table by the door. I took a step inside his house, drilling my finger into his chest. I could have wept at how warm his skin felt.
“I have to smell your stupid cologne every day in the damn cruiser. Do you bathe in it?”
His head reared back. I took another step closer, having to tilt my head back to keep my frown headed in the general direction of his face, my index finger now caressing his chest more than drilling.
“Why are your stupid uniform shirts so tight on your arms? Did you have them tailored specifically to cut off blood supply?”
His lips quirked to the side.
My other fingers got jealous, so I flattened my palm against his chest. “It’s bad enough I have to work with you all day with your juvenile sexual innuendos, but then you do sweet things like bring me dessert coffee. Who does that?”
Wyatt’s head tilted down and he leaned in, his face just inches from mine. He didn’t look scared.
“And these muscles? It’s ridiculous. I should have a partner with a potbelly and a receding hairline, not some…cop calendar model.” I stuck my bottom lip out, my voice petering out.
“Are you done?” Wyatt whispered, his breath fanning across my face.
I frowned, searching my brain for why else I was mad at him, but couldn’t quite grasp any solid threads. “I think so,” I whispered back.
And then we both pounced, our lips tangled together, his hands tilting my face, and my arms coming around his waist to feel his broad back. We were moving, legs and feet tangling together and a door slamming behind me as his tongue assaulted my mouth. My hands went on a trip, finding the globes of his rock-solid ass fascinating material.
Wyatt wrenched his mouth away and swatted at my hands until I let go. “Oakley. As much as I want this”—he looked down at the hard cock straining between us—“and I want this very badly, we can’t. You’re drunk.”
My head was swimming, but my lady parts knew what they wanted. I held up my finger. “I’m not and I can prove it.” I whipped out the breathalyzer from my pocket and blew on it, holding the screen up to him to prove I was below the limit.
&nbs
p; He rolled his lips in and took a deep breath. “Oakley.”
When I was little, I wanted a flashlight just like my daddy’s. My parents wouldn’t buy me one, saying I was too young. For whatever reason, I was desperate for the flashlight. So, one night, after they thought I was asleep, I crept out of bed and took Daddy’s flashlight from his duty belt on the kitchen table. Cop flashlights were heavy and long, too much for a mere toddler. I ended up tipping it off the table, unable to catch it since it was so heavy, and the end bopped me in the mouth. Mom found me crying and lectured me on chipping my tooth. I’ll never forget her saying how just because you want something badly, doesn’t mean you should get it.
Thing is, I wanted Wyatt so badly I was willing to chip every single one of my teeth to get him. Guess I didn’t quite learn that lesson.
I took a step closer, our bodies not quite touching, and looked up at him. “Wyatt. I’m finally ready to admit it. I need the real thing and you’re gonna give it to me.”
His eyes changed and the heat pouring off him intensified. His jaw clenched and the first flutter hit my pussy.
“Fuck yes, I am.”
Wyatt grabbed me to him, the breathalyzer falling to the ground while his mouth ravaged me. His hands went everywhere; under my shirt, down the front of my shorts, and then under my thighs to lift me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on tight. His hair felt like heaven between my fingers, the scrape of the scruff on his chin sending goose bumps down my arms. Finally being able to touch him felt so illicit I couldn’t seem to take a full breath.
He spun us around and took a few steps into his living room. Our heads popped up long enough for me to see he had one recliner and a television on the ground.
“Where’s your furniture?” I asked, desperate for a flat surface somewhere. Anywhere.
Wyatt only grunted and spun around again, practically running into the kitchen instead. He set me on the kitchen island, pulling his mouth away to whip my shirt over my head.
A horrifying thought occurred. “Oh God. I must stink from playing baseball.”
Wyatt made a noise in his throat that sounded like a growl. “Don’t fucking care.”
Then his mouth was on my collarbone, his lips plucking his way down to the bra I never would have worn if I knew I’d end the night here. I’d gotten dressed thinking of playing baseball. He unclasped the back and suddenly the bra was gone. I didn’t have time to worry about it because his lips were back on my skin, his tongue flicking my nipple and making me writhe on the granite countertop.
Wyatt pulled back, his eyelids drooping, his hair a mess from my hands. He pushed me gently and I lay back on the island, doing something I rarely did. I surrendered to him. I gave him my body to do with what he wanted. He didn’t waste time, unzipping my shorts and pulling them down my legs. He pulled off my shoes and socks and then stood back, arms crossed. I felt his gaze like a caress.
“Fuck, Oakley,” he muttered. He leaned back in, his hands resting on my knees. “You’re goddamn beautiful.”
The compliment sent a burst of warmth through me, but then he roughly spread my knees apart and wedged his body between my legs. His fingers traced the tattoos on my hips. A holstered pistol on each side like I imagined Calamity Jane or Annie Oakley would have had.
“I thought I saw these that night.”
He was referring to when he saw me getting off to porn. My hands covered my face, embarrassed anew.
He tugged at my wrists until I met his gaze. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. That’s when I knew.”
“Knew what?” I whispered.
He let go of my wrists and trailed both hands down my body, a thumb ghosting over my underwear. I shivered, wanting more of his touch.
“Knew you had all this passion bottled up underneath the ice-queen exterior. Knew that I wanted you. Knew that if I got to experience that side of you, I’d be the luckiest damn man alive.”
I sat up quick, grabbing his face and kissing him before I could let something leak out of my mouth. Something that would betray exactly how much I felt for him. He kissed me back, lazily exploring my mouth like we had all the time in the world. I wasn’t even fully naked yet, and this encounter was lasting longer than any sexual exploits in my past.
Wyatt’s hands started plucking at my hair, the ping of a pin hitting the hard floor here and there before he finally got the hair tie out. He pulled back from the kiss and let my hair tumble down past my shoulders. It was probably a total disaster after the day I’d had, but the way he was looking at me, I felt more beautiful than I ever had before.
“That’s what I wanted to see,” he murmured, sifting his fingers through my hair.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t hold back and savor every second like Wyatt seemed to want. Instead, I reached down and grabbed his cock, making him jump and finally release my hair.
“Jesus, Oakley.”
I lifted an eyebrow, biting back my smile. “I saw something I wanted.”
“Oh, you want that, huh?” he teased back automatically. “Not the vibrator or the dildo?”
I shook my head nice and slow, giving his cock a tug from root to tip, lingering on the fat head. “Nah. I want the real thing.”
Wyatt finally caught the fever, pushing me back and stripping my panties down my legs in a hurry. I whimpered at the loss of his cock in my grip, but it quickly turned into a sigh as he dove headfirst between my legs, hooking my knees over his shoulders. His tongue swiped up my slit, and I tossed my head back against the hard countertop.
“Oh God, yes,” I breathed.
His tongue flicked back and forth on my clit before he sucked the whole thing in his mouth. I grabbed a handful of hair and felt him grunt between my legs. He flattened his tongue and swiped again, his finger finding its way inside me, only adding to the sensations pulsing faster and faster. His head popped up to smile up at me, the triumph in his expression more than I could take at the moment. I was too close to orgasm to be trifled with over who was right and who was wrong about the real thing being better. I pushed his head back between my legs and the fucker chuckled the entire way through the orgasm that ripped through me moments later. His tongue had to be some sort of magic.
I lay sprawled on the kitchen island as he stood back. Blinking my eyes, I rolled my head to watch him scramble about the kitchen, opening drawers in a mad rush, one hand on his dick like a muzzle.
“What are you…”
“It’s here somewhere.” Wyatt pulled something from a drawer and held it up in the air. “Ah ha!”
I raised an eyebrow. “You keep condoms in a junk drawer?”
He rolled it on and didn’t answer, which was fine by me. I was fascinated with the journey. I couldn’t care less where he kept his condoms.
Wyatt came back between my legs, grabbing my hand and helping me off the counter. He leaned in close like he was going to kiss me, but stopped just shy of my lips.
“Turn around, Captain.”
Oh shit. There was something about the command in that deep voice of his that I was afraid could make me do anything. I’d just orgasmed harder than I had in my whole life, and I would totally beg for more if that’s what he wanted me to do.
I turned around slowly, his dick bobbing and hitting me in the back. Wyatt gathered my hair around his fist and leaned in right by my ear. “Hands on the counter,” he whispered.
I shivered, but did what I was told, spreading my legs and preening so my ass now pushed back on him. He rewarded me with a tug on my hair, the pull just shy of painful. At this angle, I could see him over my shoulder. See the way his gaze caressed every inch of my backside. The rise and fall of his chest. The way he fisted his cock and stroked it roughly. The muscles of his arm bunching and straining as he held my hair. I could feel my own desire dripping down my thighs.
Begging him to take me was on my lips, a millisecond away from being verbalized, when he notched himself against me and slid all the way in, one glorious inch
at a time. I breathed out hard, battling the instinct to move away as he stretched me. It had been a long time, and I’d never been with someone his size. Wyatt paused, giving me time to adjust, his free hand trailing up my body and playing with my breasts until my breathing evened out. He grabbed my hip with one hand, pulling all the way out, and then thrust back in so hard the island rattled.
I gasped, and he leaned over me. “Okay?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Fuck, yes, I was okay. Too good. Too full. Too sensitive. Ready to explode again, just having his cock inside me. He dragged his cock back, the slide making me grip the counter hard. He slid back in forcefully, then out. His pace increased, and I shuddered, breathing hard and trying to hold back the orgasm I knew was a hair trigger away. I’m pretty sure I heard something tip and crash over inside the cabinet below us, but all I could think about was wave after wave of pleasure that filtered through every cell in my body.
His hand released my hair, and he held my hips in a death grip. Then one hand left me, reaching between my legs to stroke my clit. One last bruising thrust and I tipped over the edge, my knees buckling and the world fading away. My soul shattered and flew in all directions, my cares tossed aside to make way for a tidal wave of pleasure. My eyes rolled back in my head and I was pretty sure something came out of my mouth. Long moments later, my eyes blinked open, and I found my cheek pressed against the cold counter.
“Stay with me,” Wyatt gritted out, thrusting into my sensitive flesh one last time before stilling.
He grunted something I couldn’t make out, his chest coming to meet my back, his cock swelling as he unloaded. Harsh breathing filled my senses, and I wondered if I’d ever be the same again.