by Fox, Harley
I can’t stop the smile, despite myself. I drop my gaze to hide my blush.
“I’m serious,” he goes on. “You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off over you this past week. I couldn’t wait to get you alone again.”
This time I’m really smiling, and I look up into his eyes.
“Me neither,” I breathe, and then I don’t know if I leaned in or he did. but we’re back to kissing again. And this time it feels closer, it feels more intimate … it feels real. Not just a quick fuck, but something meaningful.
I reach up and slide my hands along his chest, underneath his leather jacket. He shrugs his shoulders and I hear it fall to the ground where it lands with a flump. He reaches down and I feel him undoing the button on my jeans. I slide my hands down his chest again—I can’t help it!—and begin taking off his belt, undoing his jeans as well. When he’s pulled down my zipper I take my hands from him, sliding them into my own pants and panties, lifting my butt up off the table and shimmying them off of myself.
As I undress my lower half I watch Flynn take his cock, solid as a rock, out of his pants. My breath catches in my throat; I forgot how beautiful that thing was. He reaches down into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and takes out a condom, quickly unrolling it over his throbbing member. My jeans and underwear land in a pile down by his feet, and I suppress a shiver as I sit back down on the cool wooden surface of the desk.
My legs open. I’m looking down, watching Flynn grab himself, guide the head of his enormous and incredible dick toward me. And then I look up and I see Flynn looking at me, looking in my eyes. Our gazes lock and I feel connected with him, even before we’re connected down below.
I swallow, and he moves forward more. I’m already quivering with anticipation, but when I feel the head of him reach me I can’t help but let out a soft moan. He moves slowly, playing with me. I could kill him, I want this so much! But I can’t take my eyes away from his, and with a single, fluid movement I feel him enter me.
It’s all I can do not to cry out, not to close my eyes and sever this connection between us. But my eyes remain open, and so do his, as I feel him slide the entirety—the entire length of himself—into me. He grabs onto my thighs and begins to move, and he leans down and his lips find mine and my eyes close again as we kiss. Our kiss is long now. Long and passionate as he fills me.
His hands move up, along my body. I begin to grind myself with him, moving in time with his thrusts. I lock my ankles together, keeping him close, holding him inside of me as we grind our hips together. Our breath starts to come out in deeper blasts through our noses as the pleasure heightens. Now everything around us is disappearing. Flynn is all I can think about, all I can feel. His hard, muscular body presses against mine and I hold onto him, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He’s moving deeper, and with every thrust upward I feel more of him in me. It’s all I can do to keep my voice down. It’s all I can do to stop my moans from pouring out of me.
One of his hands slides up to the back of my head and Flynn’s fingers thread their way through my hair. He holds me, his own soft moans coming in through his breath. His movements come on faster. I begin to cry, my own little bursts happening on my own breath. I can tell Flynn is purposefully keeping his voice down. It’s a good thing this desk doesn’t squeak, because his movements are becoming harder and more forceful as his body collides into my hard and throbbing clit. Waves of thick passion are sending shockwaves into my body.
I can feel my scrabbling grip on him. My pussy is clenching now of its own accord. My heart is racing in my chest and I feel that rising, deep down within me threatening to come out. And still Flynn keeps going, keeps pushing himself, pounding himself into me. He’s all the way inside of me now. I can feel him, filling me with his wonderful self. His other hand slides down and sneaks in underneath the back of my shirt. His bare hand on the skin of my back. It slides up and he pulls me closer. He holds me as he continues to fill me, thrusting upward, making me shiver and shake, my legs almost unable to keep themselves held together.
Keeping myself quiet during all of this is so difficult, and yet the challenge makes it just oh so sweet. Flynn is my everything right now. He’s all I know, and all that I can feel. That rising is coming on stronger within me. I hear and feel him moan against my lips and it triggers a wave of pleasure that touches my very soul. He keeps going stronger, keeps going hard within me. I hear a tight squeak being emitted from me and I clamp my lips harder against Flynn’s, his own reaction being to pull me closer to him, his hips going faster, going in deeper.
His smell, his sounds, his body against mine, his cock connecting me to him in the deepest and most intimate of ways. I can’t stop it now. It rises, rises up, and I just hope the trembling of my body is enough indication for him that this is going to happen. Higher, higher, coming from deep inside all the way to the surface. My fingers clench, my pussy clenches, I struggle so hard to keep my voice from crying out and Flynn, mind reader that he is, pulls me even closer and buries himself as deeply inside of me as he can go just as I’m pushed over the edge.
Keeping myself quiet in this moment is the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. All of me—all of me—wants to scream, wants to cry, wants to moan and thrash and let the world know just how incredible this man is making me feel. But I have to keep quiet as Flynn holds onto me, my body quivering, pulsing hard against his. And then, deep inside of me, I feel Flynn’s thick and hardened cock throb and pulse as Flynn lets out only the tiniest of cries through his nose.
We both come together, his cock pumping his load inside of the condom, my pussy clenching so hard around him that it feels as though I’m going to snap it off. And once it’s finally over—once the trembling and quivering of muscles has finally settled down—I relax myself into Flynn’s arms, him still holding me, still keeping me pulled in close against his body.
Our lips have been pressed together this entire time, but it’s only now that we start kissing again. And it’s slow this time—slow and relaxing, intimate and wonderful. When the kissing ends and I open my eyes I see that Flynn’s are closed, if only for a second before he opens them. But in that second I see something I haven’t before: I see the man behind the roughness, behind the tough exterior and the leather jacket and the gang. I see the real Flynn.
And my God, is he beautiful.
Trista
Captain Hartridge stands up in front of everyone, going over the topics of today’s meeting, but I’m hardly paying attention.
All I can think about is Flynn. Flynn and his incredible body. Flynn and the incredible sex we had, only a few days ago, hidden away in that office when all the other Bullets were out there and could have heard us at any minute.
It gives me shivers just thinking about it. But what does Flynn think about it? I honestly have no idea. We haven’t had a chance to really talk since it happened. I’ve been swamped with work, and anytime I’m around at the warehouse or the bar there are others there. It makes it difficult to get a moment alone with him.
And I don’t want to bring him back to my place. Each time we’ve fucked it’s been in some clandestine place. Hot though it is, part of me wants to get closer to Flynn … and you can’t really do that when you’re having a quick fuck in an alley or a bathroom or in an office at the back of a building.
But taking him home isn’t really an option. My mom’s there, for one. Plus he would see my police uniform. My diploma from the academy. And the dossiers I’m keeping on everyone are there too.
No, taking him home isn’t an option. But what am I thinking anyway? A guy like that doesn’t want to be taken home. He just wants to have quick fucks and be done with you. I mean, he said there was something different about me, but he was just saying that to get into my pants again.
Wasn’t he?
“Officer Pearson!”
I snap to attention and look up to see Captain Hartridge staring daggers at me. Others are looking at me too. Did I doze off? I
definitely wasn’t paying attention, but I didn’t think she noticed …
“So glad you’ve decided to come back to earth,” the captain says to me, and I can feel myself blush. I sit up straight in my seat and clear my throat.
“Sorry, Captain,” I say. “I’m just a little tired.”
“Oh, a little tired, are we?” the captain says, bringing her sneer closer to me. “Well then, perhaps we’d better review the work that you’re doing to make sure you’re not breaking your back too much!”
Devon pipes in: “You’d think all that filing work wouldn’t be keeping you up, Pearson.”
“My thoughts exactly,” the captain says. “Officer Pearson, is doing filing work too hard for you?”
I can feel the eyes of every person in the room on my face. I have to swallow back my building anger.
“No,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Is this meeting too boring for you to stay awake throughout?”
It’s hard for me not to grimace, but I force my face muscles down.
“No,” I say.
“Well then, pay goddamned attention. I will not tell you twice.”
“Yes, Captain,” I say, and finally she goes back to her slides, leaving me alone.
“As I was saying,” she says, “there’s a new drug hitting the streets. It’s a hybridized form of amphetamine, similar to meth. Users typically crush it up and snort it. Nothing too crazy, right? Well, this new stuff’s been sending people to the hospital, and not just for overdoses. Severe nasal bleeding, temporary blindness, and even seizures have been reported from users of the drug. But even after these people are treated, they still seem to exhibit signs of addiction—even after seventy-two hours admittance. Basically, the drug is going in their system and it isn’t coming out.”
“Who’re the people doing this stuff?” one of the cops asks.
“Kids, mostly,” Captain Hartridge tells him. “College kids, some teenagers.” My heart does a flip in my chest as I remember going with the Slingers to sell drugs on the college campus. “It hasn’t gotten into the business sector yet, but we figure it’s only a matter of time.”
“Maybe it’s already there,” another cop chimes in. “And maybe the reason it’s only kids going to the hospital is because kids tend to be idiots when it comes to drugs.”
“Yeah, these teens are probably just snorting up ten lines or something to impress their friends,” a third cop says. “And of course they’re still addicted. They have no self-control.”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t be trying to stop this stuff hitting the street?” a fourth cop counters. “It sounds like serious stuff, and people are getting affected by it.”
“Okay, everybody stop,” Captain Hartridge says, cutting off the conversation. “I’ll be the one calling the shots on what to do next. Got it?” She looks around and people nod. “Got it?” More people nod. “Good. I’ll consider what our next step will be. In the meantime, be on the lookout for anything new that pops up or any leads on a supplier. But don’t make it a priority. New drugs hitting the scene aren’t anything to write home about. It could just be some new cook who’s still figuring out his recipe. Meeting adjourned.”
Chairs scrape back as people get up from the table. I crack my back, feeling the satisfying crunch of vertebrae. When I relax I see Devon walking toward me as people clear out of the room. I want to leave too, but he’s got his sights set on me, so I stay.
“Pearson,” he says, stopping in front of me. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”
I furrow my brow.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Why have you been acting so flaky at work lately?” he asks me. “Don’t think people haven’t noticed. You’ve been … harsher with people. Like you don’t care as much now.”
It’s true. The more time I spend with the Bullets, the more my persona from being around them creeps into my everyday life. I try to shrug it off, like a coat I’m wearing, but it’s difficult. And to be honest, being around the Bullets is more enjoyable than being around Captain Hartridge and Devon and all the other officers. So I guess I’m rebelling. I just didn’t know exactly how much.
“I’m just tired,” I say, my go-to for anytime I’ve been acting weird but don’t want to explain why.
“Bullshit,” he says. “You haven’t been doing anything tough at work. What exactly has been making you so tired?” His eyes narrow. “Are you fucking someone?”
“What? No!” I say, offended. But he just smiles.
“Good. That means you’re free for dinner tonight.”
“Ugh, no,” I say, taking a step back. “Devon, listen: I don’t want to go out with you. I’m not interested in you. Okay? End of story.”
His smile turns into a sneer—ugly, deforming.
“You should watch yourself, Pearson,” he says to me. “Be careful which horse you back in this race. Otherwise you may not make it in this world.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I ask, but his sneer twists into a smile again.
“Remember it,” he says, and with that he turns and strides out of the room, leaving me alone.
I try to shake off the disgusting feeling I have, but it’s hard. Heading back to the filing room, I’m not looking forward to the rest of my day. The only thing I really do have to look forward to is going to the Bullets’ place tonight. Hanging out, maybe going to the bar, drinking some beers. Those are good people, those Bullets. Great friends, like a family.
I reach the filing room and sit down, pulling a box toward me, taking the lid off and pulling out a stack of folders.
But as I begin my dull work, the elation I was just feeling begins to abate.
When am I going to do what I set out to do to the Bullets? I’ve been in the gang for two weeks now … two long weeks, and all I have to show for it is a few tepid facts on each of the members. We’ve torn apart an old office building, I’ve stopped some drugs from being dealt on campus—although Maddox probably sent the Slingers there the next day without me—and … had some incredible sex.
That’s it. Nothing good for arrests. Nothing that can incriminate anyone.
Part of the problem is that I seem to have joined at a down time for the gang. Everyone seems relaxed about it, but Maddox is only getting information sent to him in dribs and drabs. Even he seems restless. Like he’s waiting for something to happen, and until that thing happens there’s nothing for anyone else to do.
Well, what am I going to do? Wait until it’s too late? Wait until this new hybrid amphetamine drug is already out there on the streets before I do anything? I need to start making arrests. I need to step up my game. If I don’t, then one of these hospitalized kids isn’t going to be hospitalized—they’re going to be dead, and it’ll be my fault for not stopping it when I had the chance.
I can’t forget what happened to Sal.
Many hours later my shift finally ends and I leave the filing room. I don’t run into Devon, thank God, as I go to the parking lot and get on my bike, riding home. Once there I check on my mom, feed her her dinner, shower and change for the Bullets, then head over to the warehouse.
I walk into the large space where I hear yelling and see a crowd of people standing around the table. A quick scan shows me that Flynn isn’t one of them. A skip of disappointment goes through me, but I push that out of the way. I have to focus. I have to get something good.
“Hey,” I say to Chloe as I approach the crowd. “What’s going on?”
We’re standing around the table where there’s a canvas bag sitting open on it. Beside the bag are a vials of white powder, and a quick glance at the inside of the bag shows more. All six Slingers are among the crowd, one of which is on his knees, being yelled at by Maddox.
“No man, no,” the Slinger is saying. “We didn’t do that, I swear.”
“Then why are our fucking customers going to the fucking hospital?”
“Hey,” Chloe says in a whisper, leaning
toward me. “Maddox is pissed. He thinks the Slingers cut our stuff with something that’s making our customers go blind and shit.”
Holy shit. This is exactly what Captain Hartridge was talking about this morning!
“I don’t know!” the Slinger snivels. “It must be the batch! It’s all fucked up!”
“No fucking way,” Maddox spits. “Will told me this one was tested. That it was good.”
“Listen, Maddox,” one of the other Slingers says, and Maddox spins his focus around on her. “We swear, we didn’t do anything to the batch.”
“Do you fucknuts have any idea how it fucking looks to Will Silver to be selling our customers something that fucking hospitalizes them?!”
“We swear it!” the first Slinger cries, and Maddox looks back at him. His eyes narrow.
“You swear it?” he asks, his voice sounding threatening now. No one else in the warehouse is speaking, and it makes Maddox sound dangerous. “Then fucking prove it.”
The Slinger being addressed swallows. He looks scared.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Take some of the drug,” Maddox suggests, as calmly as if he were asking the Slinger to pick out a color of paint. “If you didn’t cut it with anything, then you won’t mind doing any of it.”
The Slinger’s eyes dart down to the vials on the table.
“Wha— … what about that tester? Gil something?”
“Gil’s dead,” Maddox calmly explains. “Died in a fire, remember that? Or did your tweaked-out brain think he was still around running a building that isn’t even there?”
The Slinger’s lips blubber at this.
“Well Twixer ain’t some kinda drug mule!” one of the other Slingers pipes up. Maddox turns to her.
“A drug mule carries drugs,” he tells her, once again in that calm and rational voice. “What I want is for Twixer to test out the drugs.”