Never Hold Back (First Responders #2)

by JA Essen

  Same shit, different day.

  Tossing the pizza crust into the dumpster, I unlock the squad car, hop in, get everything logged on and ready and send the chief a quick, On it boss, message. Rolling the window down, I appreciate the warm California air and the salty smell on the breeze. Definitely better than the cow and horse manure smells from Montana years ago.

  Backing out of the condo parking spot, my mind wanders back to Livingston. I went through so much pain and heartache just before I left, but sometimes I wonder if I still wouldn’t have been better off staying. Losing Mom was hard enough, and then to add insult-to-injury, catching my ex, Beth, in our bed with her college professor was just too much.

  My bags were packed, and I was gone two days later. There was no way in hell I was staying around for the “It was a one-time thing” and “We can work though this” bullshit. The signs had been there, but I wasn’t ready to believe them. Beth was my high school sweetheart; I just knew we would be together forever.

  Fuck was I ever wrong, and man did it change me.

  Since moving to Cali four years ago, I’ve been a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind, never keeping a girl around for more than a couple of weeks. My heart just doesn’t feel like getting invested again, and taking the chance that it’ll be decimated. Honestly, it’s been a nice change of pace; flavor of the month and all that.

  Pulling into the Santa Barbara Medical Center, I grab one of the empty spots up front reserved for first responders. One of the pretty cool things about being involved with a larger city department, is the technology. I grab the iPad from the passenger seat before I exit the vehicle, and lock the doors.

  Coming during the morning is way different than the chaos that usually accompanies night visits. There’s no sirens or EMTs running around like crazy trying to get victims into the ER before they code out. The most activity I notice upon entering the front doors is a group of nurses gossiping and drinking coffee near the receptionist’s desk.

  “Good morning, handsome!” I’m greeted by a sweet, gray-haired lady sitting in a cats and dogs scrub top behind the desk. From my peripheral, I notice the nurses that were all chatting it up moments ago, drop their voices, and I catch their glances back and forth from one another to me.

  I can’t help but smile.

  “Good morning.” I glance down to the name tag. “Janice, I’m here to get a victim statement. There was an MVC yesterday out on Highway 154. Victim’s last name is Upton.”

  She starts typing on her computer to pull up room information. Once I have that, she directs me to the elevators that are around the corner and on the left. “Thanks Janice. Have a wonderful day.”

  “You too, sweet cheeks,” I hear her say under her breath.

  Turning back to her I reply, “One hundred squats a day.” I watch her face turn beet red when she realizes she’s been caught.

  Dick move? Probably. But I just give her a wink and head on my way. The cackling laughs from the nurses as they move toward the desk let me know that they all heard it too, and are likely going to give Janice hell.

  Pressing the call-button, I log into the iPad and bring up the program to take the victim’s statement. I fill in the name and room number while I wait, which isn’t long fortunately. The doors close as I press for floor five. Why do they always play the sappiest music in elevators?

  Tapping the screen to keep it from going dark, I exit the elevator and cross the sterile smelling hospital floor to the wall with the room number plaques. Turning left again, I find the room that I need, three doors down on the right.

  It’s still semi early so I knock lightly.

  “Yes?” A female voice answers from the other side.

  “Zander Brooks, Santa Barbara Police Department.”

  There’s a little shuffling and then she responds, “Come on in.”

  The first face I see is a cute looking brunette, sitting at the edge of the bed in an eighties retro tank top and some ridiculously short white shorts. Not bad. She could definitely be August’s flavor.

  Then, as I glance up the bed toward the victim, I nearly drop the iPad. This poor thing’s leg is pinned in two different locations, has IV’s dangling, and is without a doubt in some serious pain. None of that obviously matters to the situation growing in my pants when I glance up at her face, though.

  Holy shit she is gorgeous!

  Her eyes are bright blue and sparkling, even with the pain medications that are certainly circulating through her body right now. Long blonde hair is hanging over her right shoulder and her brilliant white smile could light up this city on its darkest night.

  Get ahold of yourself, Zander.

  Clearing the catch in my throat, I introduce myself again. “Good morning. My name is Zander Brooks.”

  “Pretty sure we got that already, stud.” Miss Upton winks at me.

  Smart mouth on you, huh? I can work with that.

  “Yes ma’am. Sorry.” I shift a little, trying to relieve some of the pressure behind my zipper, and it doesn’t go unnoticed as she raises her eyebrows at me. “If you’re up to it, I needed to get a statement from you this morning.”

  “I’m up for all kinds of things, cutie.” She bites her bottom lip at me.

  I bet you would be if you weren’t bed-bound. Mm, bound. Yeah, that would be fun.

  “Rachel!” The other one pipes up and pokes her in her ribs. “Sorry about that, she’s on a lot of medications right now.”

  Trying to hide my smile is impossible, so I don’t. “No worries.”

  I pull up and sit down into, what has got to be, the most uncomfortable chair ever designed. “So, shall we get started then Miss Upton?”

  “Sure thing, baby; and it’s Rachel.” She runs the tip of her tongue across her upper lip.

  Seeing her friend shaking her head in disbelief, I’m betting that it’s less the medications and more the real Rachel that I’m seeing here. I’ve never been so grateful for shit-duty in my life.

  Maybe leaving Montana behind wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Beth is a distant memory at this point as I take down everything that Rachel can remember. Her friend, Macy, fills in some spots that she has trouble with, probably because I’m not playing nice. I’ve put on my dark and mysterious facade, even though it is work.

  You want to play dirty? No problem, cutie.

  As I’m finishing up the form on the iPad, there’s a knock at the door and I see what I presume are her parents walk in.

  “How are you, Officer…” his voice trails off.

  I stand up, “Brooks. Zander Brooks, SBPD.”

  I shake his hand. “Phillip Upton, Rachel’s father, and this is her mother, Charlotte.”

  “How do you do, ma’am?” I shake her hand as well, but more gently. “I was actually just wrapping up with the statement from Rachel regarding the MVC.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you some questions, Officer?” Mrs. Upton has one of those I’m going to eat you alive looks on her face, and I seriously doubt this is going to be as enjoyable as the last hour I’ve spent here. I nod at Rachel and Macy as I exit the room and it only takes a few moments before the second coming of the Spanish Inquisition begins.

  “Miss Upton, I think I have everything I need for now. Here’s my card. ” My fingers linger on hers slightly longer than professional courtesy permits, but at the moment, professional thoughts are not what is running through my head. Leaning into Rachel I whisper, “My personal cell is on the back.” Taking a step back from the bed, I continue, “Call me if you need anything.”

  Turning around, I thank Mr. and Mrs. Upton for their time and tell them I will keep them apprised of the investigation. The gossiping and giggling coming from the room puts a smile on my face, and I know I left the impression I was going for.

  The warm California air smacks me in the face like a heated hand as I exit the hospital, breaking my daydream of what I hope is to come when Rachel heals and is finally able to leave the hospital. Am I jumping ahead of myself? Su
re. But I’m also that damn confident that I left her more feverish than her injuries.

  My cell phone chirps from my pocket as I reach the squad car. Settling in and placing the iPad on the dock, I retrieve it to see who is bothering me while I’m at work. Nearly all of my friends are other cops, or guys from the gym, and they pretty well know my schedule too. The number is unfamiliar, but I swipe across to bring up the text anyways:

  So, you said if I need anything, right? Well, how about a sponge bath Officer BB? ;)

  I’ll be thinking about those gorgeous eyes and sexy ass when I sleep later. ~R

  “Holy shit!” The words come out of my mouth before I even realize I’ve said them. Damn this girl is forward. Yep, definitely going to have fun with this one when she heals.

  Back at the station, it’s the same grind as any other day. Fill out the pages upon pages of information on this MVC. The problem is, what should’ve taken me about an hour has now turned into over two. My mind keeps wandering back to that damn text message from Rachel. Plus, I keep wondering what ‘Officer BB’ stands for? Whatever it is, I don’t care. So long as I get to have some fun with her. My kind of fun.

  “Zander!” Jeff, one of the rookies pops me on the back of the head. “So you gonna come toss a few back with us, or are you too busy off in la-la land?”

  It’s Friday night and there’s a small group of us that always hit the bar after work for beers and babes.

  I haven’t responded all day to the text and am not sure if I should. Turning the cell over in my hand so there’s no eaves dropping, I gather the rest of my stuff. “Yeah, man, definitely. I need to clear my head of some shit, anyways.”

  Tomorrow is an off day for me, so I grab a ride with Jeff, knowing full well that I plan on drinking heavily and won’t be in any condition to drive. With a little luck, I’ll grab some little cutie at the bar and be at her place tonight anyways. I’ve got Yellow Cab on speed dial for my morning getaway.

  Round after round of drinks, the bar seems to just get louder and louder. The other four guys already have their diversions for the night and have been giving me hell about the two I’ve already turned away. It’s not that they weren’t hot as hell, far from it actually. I just can’t seem to get my head in the game as I’d rather have it in between Rachel’s legs. Fuck she’s got me messed up.

  Pulling the cell from my pocket, I pull up her text and start typing a response:

  I don’t know about a sponge bath, but I’d sure as hell like to read you your rights and then handcuff you… to my bed, and bang you like a screen door in a hurricane until your toes curl and you’re screaming my name.

  I press ‘send’ and then put it back in my pocket.

  “Who the hell you texting, man?” Jeff, being his normal damn self just can’t keep his nose in his own business.

  “Your mama. Just setting up a little cougar action for later!”

  He flips me off, “Fuck you, man.”

  He quit drinking about an hour ago, and I see the redhead shift off his lap as he moves. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I know what I’m getting into here in about fifteen minutes.” He smacks her on the ass and turns around, leaving our group.

  “I think we’re going to get out of here as well, Zander.” The other guys all push back away from the table and leave with their arms wrapped around their ‘good-times’ for this weekend, leaving me quite drunk, and alone. Definitely not the ending I had seen coming.

  Grabbing my shit, I pay off the rest of my tab and head outside to grab a cab. Alone on a Friday night. Well this is a new one for you Zander.

  Thank God the cabbie was not one of those chat-you-up on the way home kind. Those guys just piss me the fuck off when I’m this sloshed. Stripping out of my clothes, my cell drops to the floor and as I pick it up, my thumb activates the screen.

  “What the fuck?” There’s a missed message. Probably one of the guys sending me a shot of the girl he’s screwing just to get at my hackles. Upon opening the screen up, my eyes widen when I see it’s a response from Rachel. It’s a selfie of her perky-as-fuck tits pushed together and the response:

  You promise?

  Three

  Zander

  Late-September

  The past two months have been sheer torture. Every week I’ve been in to see Rachel and check on her progress. She was moved to physical therapy three weeks ago and is finally, FINALLY, being released.

  We officially have our first date this afternoon. There’s been plenty of days where we’ve had lunch and time alone in the rehab center that could be considered a date, if it wasn’t so awkward of a location.

  My libido is verging on carnal instincts. If we even make it through half the date without me taking her in a bathroom stall, it will be truly, a miracle of the gods. Knowing that I can’t act certainly hasn’t stopped Rachel from torturing me for nearly nine weeks. Sext after sext, inviting looks and sexually twisting damn near every conversation we have has left me with blue balls more than once.

  I’ve tried to scratch the itch with a couple of girls shortly after we met, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to get the release I need. I mean sure, I come, but it simply leaves me wanting more. The fulfillment isn’t there, so I’ve been celibate for five weeks now.

  Five.

  Whole.

  Fucking.

  Weeks.

  She better be worth the chase, because I don’t know how much longer my arm is going to hold up to these marathon masturbation sessions. Flipping through the saved shots on my phone, I grip my cock tightly and stroke it vigorously, rotating my wrist, wishing it was her little hand instead. I stop on my favorite one, which is actually a one minute long video clip.

  Apparently, she had her best friend Macy sneak in one of her vibrators two weeks ago. Pressing play, I pick up my pace, rubbing myself from tip to root, needing this release in a painful way. Rachel dips the vibrator into her mouth and sucks it as she slowly pulls it back out. Her cheeks are caved in from the suction force, and I can only imagine how incredible she is going to feel on my dick.

  With a pop, she tugs it free of her mouth and the camera shakes and flips as she repositions lower, focusing it on her clit. Her sharp intake of breath and moans spur me forward with more vigor and I can feel the tingle starting in my balls. Oh fucking thank you.

  She whimpers my name under her breath and the camera flips again, focusing on her beautiful face. Her eyes are closed and her bottom lip is being bitten hard between her teeth. Another sudden intake of air as she releases her lip and, “Oh fuck Zander, I’m coming” spills from her mouth. Her head bucks back hard into the pillows just before she drops the phone.

  “Oh yeah!” I grit my teeth as I reach my own climax, sending streams of hot come squirting all over my chest. The phone goes silent as the video ends and the jerking of my cock continues, pulsing in my tight grip. Sated, for the time being at least, I grab the towel on the bedside table and wipe most of my mess up before heading into the shower.

  A cold shower.

  Once finished toweling dry, I grab a pair of dark jeans and a crisp, white linen shirt from the closet. No white after Labor Day? Bullshit. Not when it looks this damn good on me. Leaving the top two buttons undone, I slip on a pair of brown Oxford’s and then ruffle my hair with some gel. Getting everything into my pockets, I hit the entryway, grab my chocolate blazer, and I’m out the front door.

  It’s breezy and in the upper sixties, a perfect day for the date I have in mind. Starting up my Ram, I shift into drive and pull out into the street. Checking my iPhone at a traffic light, I verify for the third time today that our reservations were indeed confirmed, and I smile. Getting the patio to ourselves wasn’t an easy task. Good thing I called three weeks ahead of time.

  Turning off onto Highway 154, I crank up the tunes, Sirius/XM’s Hip Hop 47 blasting through the speakers. Ginuwine’s Pony probably isn’t the best thing to have going through my head as I pull up, but fuck, you can’
t just turn that shit off. It would be sacrilegious to even consider it.

  Son of a bitch. I knew she had money, but this is a whole new level for me. I press the call button and am greeted with a cheerful, “Hello?” through the squawk box.

  “It’s Zander Brooks. I’m here…” I don’t even get to finish my sentence as the gates begin to part. I swear I hear angels singing as they do so and it’s a little ominous.

  “Take the second left once you come in. That will be our drive. See you in a minute, and,” Rachel pauses and then whispers, “hurry up Bad Boy!”

  Yeah, she finally told me what BB stood for.

  There’s a beep, and the line closes.

  Driving in to this area, my eyes bug out at the size of these estates. This is really the top of the social ladder for Santa Barbara. Fuck, the separate guest houses are bigger than my family home in Montana.

  Taking the second left as Rachel instructed, I’m greeted by a quarter mile long paved drive leading up to their house. House? That doesn’t even begin to cover it. This thing has got to be close to ten-thousand square feet.

  What the hell have you gotten yourself into Zander?

  Killing the engine, I press the parking brake into position and look out the passenger’s window to catch her mother standing at the opened front door, arms crossed and with a very scrutinizing look on her brow.

  Great.

  Stepping down from the truck, I walk around the front and she eyes me, her demeanor relaxes and a small smile curls her lips upward.

  “Mrs. Upton,” I extend my hand, “how are you this afternoon?”

  “Fine, Zander. Thank you.” She shows me into the opulent foyer. “And thank you so much for everything you’ve done for Rachel. The days you came to see her were always so much brighter for her. Being down this long has definitely taken its toll.”