by London Hale
All night had been an exercise in restraint, and Lola had loved torturing me. Brushing her hip or her hand over my cock, pushing her ass right up against it. Combine that with seeing her in my sweatshirt and one of those stretchy skirts she loved—the kind that just barely peeked out under the hem of my hoodie—it was a wonder I hadn’t fucked her up against the wall next to the dart board. I’d passed the point of needing her a good hour ago, though I hadn’t wanted to push. But when she’d given me the green light, all bets were off.
Lola didn’t protest when I backed her against the wall, sliding my hands under my too-big sweatshirt and the tank she wore to cup her tits, kneading them as she shimmied out of her panties.
“I’ve spent all night thinking about fucking you.”
She hummed, pressing against me as she rucked up her skirt to her waist, baring her pussy to me. Even pushed up on the balls of her feet, she was too short to get anywhere near my mouth, though it was clear she was hungry for a kiss. With two handfuls of her ass, I hauled her up against me.
She smiled, kissed me, but pulled back before I could deepen it. Bit her lip as she looked up at me with hooded eyes. “I’ve spent all night thinking about sucking you off.”
I groaned, gripping her ass tighter and grinding her against my cock currently attempting to fight its way out of my jeans. “Jesus, beautiful. Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
This time she let me slip my tongue between those full lips, deepening the kiss. It was hot as fucking hell as she worked herself over on my cock. Like she was desperate to get it inside her. She moaned as she ground down on my cock, rolling her hips against me in the way she did when she was horny as hell.
Jesus, I needed inside her. And soon.
“You know I love your mouth on me, but I’m not letting you get on your knees in this bathroom.”
Her bottom lip poked out in a pout. “Fine, but I’m totally taking your cock in my mouth when we get home.”
I pinned her to the wall and worked my jeans open, pulling out my cock and quickly sheathing it, thanking every deity I could think of that my girl had made sure my wallet was always stocked with condoms. “You’re already wet for me, aren’t you, sweet girl? Soaked the front of my jeans, didn’t you? I’m gonna walk back out there with your come all over me and love every second of it.”
With that, I gripped her ass and pulled her down on me as I slowly worked my way inside her tight pussy—short, shallow thrusts, inching my way deeper each time, always stretching her—groaning into her skin with my face buried in her neck.
Lola gasped once I was seated fully, sliding her fingers into my hair and holding me to her. “Connor…”
Knowing we’d already been in here too long, I pumped into her the way I knew would make her come, and come quickly. She’d spent all night teasing me, working me into a frenzied state. It wouldn’t take anything to get me to go off.
“Lo…my girl. My beautiful girl. Love being inside you.” Reaching between us, I settled my thumb on her clit, flicking it back and forth in time with my thrusts. Lola tossed her head as she clamped down on me, her moans no doubt loud enough to be heard through the door as she came, taking me right over the edge with her.
“Shit,” I groaned, her pussy squeezing my cock as I pulsed inside her. “That’s so good. So fucking good.”
She kissed my neck, then gripped my face, bringing it up until I could press my lips against hers. “How does it keep getting better?”
I smiled at the awed tone of her voice. Thanking my luck that I’d somehow found her and she’d somehow agreed to be mine. “No fucking idea, but I’m not questioning it.”
We left the bathroom once we’d cleaned up, Lola walking ahead of me. With her fingers linked in mine, she turned around, glancing back at me with a smile as she tugged me along behind her. Truth was, she could tug me anywhere, and I’d follow. That girl had me wrapped around her damn finger, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Loved every goddamn second of it.
I brought her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips to her fingers. “Love you, beautiful.”
Too focused on the way her eyes lit up as she stared at me, how her dimple dented her cheek, proving exactly how happy she was—how happy she was with me—I didn’t see the guy heading toward us until he was right there. In her space.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said as she bumped into him, spinning around to look at him. Her hand went tight in mine, her entire body frozen.
“Well, look who we have here. Thought you didn’t do this on the island,” he said, herding her toward the wall. “What’s this treatment cost?”
I tugged Lola toward me, not thinking about anything but getting her away from him. Needing her behind me. Needing her safe.
“You got a problem, asshole?” I stepped up to the guy, going nose-to-nose with him. It was then, when I was close enough to catalog his traits, that I recognized him.
“Connor, let’s just go.” Lola tugged on the back of my shirt, trying to get me to walk away.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t. The night in the alley came back in the blink of an eye. His hands on her wrist, squeezing. Leaving bruises. His much larger body holding her against the brick wall of the building. Her eyes wide and fearful.
With clarity, I remembered every detail, the seconds of that night ticking by in slow motion. It wasn’t just the fear on her face in that moment, it was her entire demeanor. She’d been unhappy, and until that very second, I hadn’t realized exactly how far she’d come. I’d be damned if this asshole did anything to take her back to that. Would fuck him up simply for daring to dim her shine.
“She let you fuck her in the bathroom?” he asked, whiskey soaking his breath. “How much extra she charge for that? She told me that was off the table.”
I saw red, even as she pleaded with me to stop, tugged me back, trying to get me to walk away. I couldn’t. I didn’t stop to consider anything past shutting him up. Didn’t think beyond getting him away from her. Needing to keep her safe.
Hands braced against his chest, I shoved him hard, forcing him out of the hallway. Forcing him away from Lola. “The fuck did you just say?”
He stumbled backward, barely righting himself from falling on his ass. “Who the hell do you think you are? Don’t you know who I am?”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are. You don’t get to speak about her.” I shoved him again, hanging on to the last thread of control that prevented me from swinging. From knocking this fucker out. “You don’t get to even fucking look at her, asshole.”
“Hey, she’s the one for sale. Her price tag says I can look all I want.”
My entire career revolved around the fact that I was cool when faced with a volatile situation. I didn’t ever lose my temper, had never been out of control. I’d spent years on the force, been in countless situations requiring me to keep my head. And I had, for every one of them.
But none of them had ever threatened my girl’s safety. Any ounce of control I’d managed to keep up until then snapped as soon as the words left his mouth. Despite Lola at my back, begging me to let it go. Please, Connor, please. Despite the fact that I was a cop about to start a bar brawl, knowing damn well it could end in my suspension—or worse. None of it mattered.
Lola was mine to protect, not just from actions taken against her but from words. From shame. I didn’t care what she’d done in her past—hell, I didn’t care if she’d role-played with a John an hour before coming into the bar with me. I wasn’t going to allow anyone to disrespect her. To make her feel like goods instead of a person.
Because of that, I didn’t think about anything other than shutting that fucker up as I pulled my arm back and snapped it forward, connecting my fist with his smug face.
The thud of Connor’s fist hitting the man’s jaw almost made me sick. I screamed, my hands coming up to cover my face, but it was too late. It was really, really too late.
“Break it up, now.” A cop—wearing the
same uniform pants and department hoodie I’d seen a million times—jumped between the two men, pushing Connor back. He hadn’t been in the bar before we’d headed to the bathroom, so he must have just arrived. He must have…oh my God, had someone called him because of Connor and me in the ladies’ room? The guy Connor punched—the potential client I’d met that one, stupid time—knew exactly who I was and what I did. What I’d done.
He knew me as Lolita, and I had no doubts he would tell everyone. And Connor was going to lose his damn mind.
I was watching my life end in real time. All I could think of, all I could focus on, was Connor facing down the police officer in front of him. Connor was pissed, his body language radiating the fact that he was in his over-the-top protective mode. He was going to say or do something to defend me, and there really was nothing to defend. The guy had called me a whore, and I was one. Or had been.
I’d been trying to start over again, but apparently, that plan had just failed. Completely.
“Someone want to tell me what’s going on here?” the cop said, eyeing everyone in the crowd hard.
My stomach twisted, guilt a heavy noose around my neck as his eyes skated over me. Something there, something in the way his eyebrow rose and his jaw ticked, told me he knew who I was. What I was. I had no idea how, but I could tell. And that made me feel even worse.
“Officer, I’m Preston Welding, and I want to press charges against these two,” the man Connor punched said as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd.
He pointed toward Connor, something that enraged me. I stepped forward, ready to defend the kindest man I’d ever known, but Connor dragged me behind him again. Ever the protector.
“What kind of charges are you thinking about filing?” the cop asked.
The Welding guy lifted his chin, gesturing toward Connor. Toward me. “He assaulted me because I witnessed a crime.”
“What sort of crime?” The cop arched an eyebrow, watching Welding with interest. This was bad. This was so very bad.
And somehow, as Welding’s eyes met mine, I knew it was about to get worse.
“That woman is a prostitute turning tricks on the island—”
Oh sweet Jesus…
“I told you to shut your fucking mouth,” Connor said, leaning forward as if to charge. I grabbed his arm, pulling him back.
“Don’t,” I hissed, trying and failing to hold him in place. To keep him still so he didn’t make things worse. Not that things could get much worse. Thankfully, Riley jumped into the fray, grabbing Connor around the chest and manhandling him away from Welding.
“See?” Welding said. “He’s a damn animal. When I tried to tell someone they had a whore working the room, he attacked me. Almost knocked me to the ground in a rage.”
“I’ve already seen how you treat women, you lying bastard. You left bruises on her the last time you had her penned up against her will. If you think I was letting you do that again, you’re a goddamn idiot. And I’ll show you fucking rage, just keep calling her a whore.”
The cop held up his hands, silencing both men before turning to look at Connor. “What’s your story?”
Connor clenched his jaw. “It’s bullshit—”
“Not you, kid.” The cop tipped his chin at me. “You. What’s your story?”
My mouth went dry, and my heart nearly exploded in my chest. My story? I was a college student, a woman on her own with no family to back her up, and an ex-sex worker. I had a feeling that last part would be the worst to have to admit, but I would if it meant Connor wouldn’t get into trouble. Wouldn’t lose his job.
“I…uh—”
“She’s with me.” Connor reached back, his hand wrapping around mine. “She’s mine.”
Something passed over the cop’s face, and his eyes flicked behind me. I had no idea who or what he was looking at, but there was a break there. The smallest moment of something soft, and then he glowered again.
Before he could say another word, though, Riley grabbed me by the shoulder in a supportive sort of way. “Lola wasn’t working anything. She’s Connor’s girl. And it’s like Connor said, Officer. That guy”—he pointed at my almost-client—“had her trapped in the back. Connor was only defending her.”
I stared at him, my mouth almost falling open. There was no way he saw that, and everyone in that bar probably knew it. Everyone but the cop, who regarded Riley with something close to apprehension. But then the bartender chimed in.
“I saw the same thing. That young lady was in trouble, not coming on to him. Connor helped her.”
Claire appeared as well, standing firm right beside her brother. “Same here. Connor was trying to get the guy off her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
Connor wrapped his hand around her arm, supporting her. Pulling her gently behind him as he had with me. He was protective of her in a way I hadn’t noticed before, though I understood it. He’d told me how she’d been attacked, how he’d found her. I wanted to hug her, to thank her for standing up when she probably just wanted to hide, but it wasn’t the time. For the moment, I could only focus on the danger of the situation. The consequences of the cop believing Preston over Connor. Claire and I could commiserate another day.
Some older lady who’d been sitting in the back corner with no way to have seen what happened spoke up next. “The guy had it coming. He had that poor girl trapped. Connor had every right to defend her.”
And another. And another. One by one, everyone in the bar joined in the chorus of defense of Connor. In the defense of me. No one corroborated the charges Welding tried to claim, no one went against the story of Connor defending me from an attack. Until the only silent person left, Evie—who had probably been closest to the hallway to see what had kicked everything off—came to stand beside me.
She even grabbed my hand. “That man attacked Lola, and Connor defended her. You’d do the same for your girl, wouldn’t you?”
The corner of the cop’s lips twitched, whether to fall into a frown or rise into a smile I had no idea. “You want to file charges, Lola?”
I leaned into Connor, shaking my head. “I just want him to leave us alone.”
Welding looked over the crowd nervously, obviously feeling a bit outnumbered. As he should have. “I’m telling you, she’s nothing but a—”
But the cop had had enough. “A woman who could easily press charges for assault and battery if you don’t shut the fuck up.” He looked up at Connor. “What about you? You good?”
Connor took a deep breath, his hand squeezing mine. His shoulders tight as he nodded once. “If she’s good, I’m good. But he needs to get the fuck off our island.”
The cop grabbed Welding by the arm. “I think that’s the best idea of the night. C’mon, Preston. I’ll call in a squad car to escort you to the bridge.”
“But I bought a ferry ticket.”
“That ferry doesn’t come for two hours, and your time on Temperance Falls is up.” The cop shoved him out the door, looking back once and almost catching my eye.
“What just happened here?” I asked, tugging on Connor’s arm.
“Not yet, beautiful,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple as he watched the door. “Wait until he comes back in.”
I stood and waited as I was told, Connor holding me against his side with his arm securely around my shoulders and Evie holding my hand. No one made a sound, no one dared to move as we all stared at the door. The entire bar seemed to be holding its collective breath. By the time the cop walked back in a few minutes later, I was a shaky, terrified mess.
“You,” the cop said, striding to Connor with long steps. “‘She’s mine’? You stealing my lines?”
Evie laughed and let go of my hand before running at the cop and wrapping her arms around his neck. “You made it.”
“Just in time, apparently.” The cop leaned down and kissed her, a possessive hand resting on her ass. “Sorry I’m late.”
“The Nashes and Lola kept me company.”
The cop’s eyes swung my way again, and I tucked myself into Connor’s side purely out of habit. “Lola, I presume?”
Connor’s hand on my back supported me, giving me enough security to offer a soft, “Hi.”
“You okay?”
Connor squeezed me closer, dropping his hand to my hip. “She’s fine, Nate. I was there.”
The cop smiled. “Good job, kid.” He tugged his department hoodie over his head, revealing a white undershirt pulled tight across his muscled chest, and stretched his neck from side to side. “I need a fucking beer.”
It was as if his simple statement restarted the world. The bartender hurried behind the counter, rubbing a hand across my shoulder as she passed me. More people took the time to walk by, to say quiet words of support, to offer a hand or a touch. No one mentioned the truth Welding had said, no one seemed to care that I might have been a sex worker at one time. All that mattered to them was that I was Connor’s, and that made me one of them. And as Nate and Evie joined our group in the dart room, as everyone went back to telling stories, drinking beers, and throwing darts, I snuggled into Connor’s side and rested my forehead against his chest.
“You remember what I said when we walked in?” he asked. “I meant it. You’re mine, so that means you’re part of this crazy family we’ve got here. And we protect what’s ours.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
I didn’t even notice the tears falling until he wiped the first one away. “Hey…hey. Why are you crying? Are these good tears?”
I couldn’t have held back my smile if I’d tried, and I didn’t want to try. “These are the best tears.”
Wrapped in his arms, warm and safe exactly where I wanted to be, there was only one more thing to do.
“Can we go home?” I asked, leaning back.
“Anything you want.” He tucked me into his side again, his arm heavy on my shoulders, and headed for the door, throwing a hand in the air to wave goodbye when the group started yelling to him.
“Should I say thank you or something?” The wind had picked up, the night colder than when we’d arrived. I pulled my thick coat around me even as Connor bent his body to try to block me from the gale.