by Trent Evans
She let out a small sound of surprise as he took a step out of the shower, water dripping upon the floor, steam warm against her face as he drew close. His cock bobbed in front of her as his hand submerged into her hair, taking firm hold of it and forcing her to kneel up and lean toward him. The heavy, broad head of his penis was a mere breath away, the water running down its length.
“Tongue,” he said, his voice gravelly now, eyes half-lidded.
Oh fuck.
But still she obeyed, tentatively reaching out for him with her tongue. The water was warm, a subtle hint of soap, and the stronger, clean scent of him filling her nostrils. He shook her head by her hair.
“More.”
Wincing at the sting, she complied, tracing the pulsing veins with the tip of her tongue, water dripping down her chin as she stroked the thick tube along the underside of the shaft. Taking a chance, she pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the huge head, the feel of him against her lips making her sex tighten, her tired clit fully, achingly awake.
He grinned at her as she opened her mouth, instinct — and lust — taking over, the thought of that heavy cock on her tongue leaving her pussy seething with renewed wet heat.
But then he took his cock away, his veined, tan fist stroking up and down, making her wish it were her hands holding his throbbing length, his engorged flesh hot against her soft palm.
“Please… sir,” she whispered, looking up at him, not sure what it was she was pleading for.
“You have to earn this too.”
She swallowed hard, licking her lips, the taste of him still upon her tongue. “Yes, sir.”
Watching him finish his shower was pure torture, her pussy dripping its wetness upon her legs folded beneath her.
Putting on his clothes again, he watched her all the while, neither of them saying a word.
It wasn’t until he’d taken her back downstairs, standing over her again once her manacles were securely bound to that wall, that he spoke.
“I’ll only ask this of you once a day.”
“Ask me what, sir?”
“What’s the name of your source?”
It should’ve broken the spell, but somehow part of her knew he’d still try to find out, deal or not. And that same part of her resolved that he’d never get what he sought.
“I can’t tell you that.” She met his gaze. “Sir.”
He smiled at her, either resignation or indulgence there in the dark depths of his gaze. “Lie down.”
Tucking a blanket around her, she snuggled into the pile of pillows and cushions, the chains long enough to let her draw her hands underneath her cheek.
Ford knelt down then, his lips pressing to her forehead, a gesture so gentle it made her breath catch in her throat.
What was happening here?
He turned back to her, taking hold of the bars once the door to her cell was shut and locked.
“Tomorrow, we need to go to the station. And I know you’re going to be a good girl for me too.”
Then he was gone, the lights shutting off a moment later, plunging her cell into deep shadow.
* * *
The documents and notes retrieved from Falon’s care were spread over Ford’s desk, next to the dark green folder containing the missing person’s file he’d asked Anders to retrieve for him. His eye kept returning to one note in particular, a passage she’d underlined in heavy ink:
Two backpackers once disappeared from the park trailhead in downtown White Valley. They never came back. They’re not dead though — they’re alive and well.
Ford checked the missing persons file again... and reviewed the case from two years earlier. The disappearance of two backpackers who’d started from the park trailhead... and never returned. He still remembered their names: April Brock and Lucia Hernandez. A large S&R had never located them, and the police concluded they were probably run-aways.
Now, he wondered... because he knew very well that the girls did not in fact go missing. But why would her source refer, if obliquely, to that case? One that all the world saw as a cold case? Maybe there were other cases Ford didn’t even know about?
His thoughts turned to Falon again. He’d brought her to the station with him, installing her in the jail cell, shackled at hands and feet once again simply because he could. Unlike her last visit to that same jail cell though, she didn’t utter a word of protest.
His cock was hard already just thinking of her. Every part of him wanted to cross that last threshold with her, make her his — if only for a short time. It wasn’t as if it were frowned upon or unusual. He knew for a fact that some temporary wards in the past had been treated as little more than walking sex toys by their guardians.
It wasn’t the prospect of sex with his beautiful ward that had him pausing. It was that part of him wanted her to want it. Wanted her to want him.
Of course, it was absurd. It wasn’t supposed to matter if a ward wanted her guardian. The only thing that was supposed to matter was that she obey him, that she learn what submission in White Valley could really mean for a woman committed to becoming part of the community.
Temporary Ward as a test drive, so the old joke went.
He feared that this was ending up as much more than a test drive for him.
And for his heart.
“Not now, Ford,” he murmured, opening the missing person’s file again, trying to make sense of what the source was up to.
The search and rescue mounted to find the two girls had turned up nothing,
Despite the fact both were college students at UW, the disappearance was ruled by the Council — which in a quirk of state law also serve as defacto county commissioners since White Valley is not only a city but its own county as well — to be a runaway case. The State Patrol signed off on the finding too, the investigating officer from the WSP just happening to have family with secret ties to residents of White Valley.
As far as the official record showed, that’s as far as it went.
The source strongly implied what only a very few people actually knew — that the girls were not runaways, and were indeed found... but nowhere near their hiking trail.
Ford remembered this story well. He wasn’t Sheriff then, merely a deputy, but the current Sheriff then, Dale Watkins, was set to retire, the Council agreeing to appoint Ford Sheriff once Watkins retired. Dale had passed on the real story to him, saying it was something Ford would need to know.
The girls were actually abducted — by a highly placed member of White Valley elite, a man named one Grayson Corddray. That Miles’ uncle was involved in this dark tale was something very few people actually knew.
To avoid a scandal, the girls were paid off — to the tune of tens of millions of dollars apiece. Both agreed to the settlement on condition they never discuss the case again with anyone, including any authorities — thereby preventing them from telling their real stories.
Whoever the source was, they knew a lot. But why would they disclose so much to someone like Falon?
His blonde captive’s beautiful image flitted through his mind once more, his aching cock instantly at attention. He didn’t understand the full picture yet, but he was getting there. Frustrated, Ford slapped the file closed again, switching off his desk light.
There was one thing he understood quite well though, and she was currently obediently cooling her heels in the station’s jail cell.
You know what you need, what you both need. So do it.
It was time to go home… and see what came next.
Chapter 16
He didn’t say a word to her as he drove her home from the station. But as the afternoon light began to wane, he’d watched her in that mirror the entire way.
The clothes she wore, a light gray tank top, and very snug shorts, were the only ones he allowed her — and that was only because he was taking her out in public.
So he’d gotten an eyeful of her unfettered breasts bouncing and jiggling in the ridiculously non-supportive top. The clothes felt
more like an advertisement for her charms than they did any sort of effective concealment of them.
She thought of him as she’d sat alone in the jail cell, her memories of her first spanking still fresh, though it was only a few days prior.
The now concerned her more though, and one person dominated the now, dominated her thoughts, and increasingly, her desires.
Ford.
Did he feel the same? Was it even right for either one to feel this way?
Of course, she had no real choice. It had haunted her more every hour she spent alone in that cell in the basement, how despite her relative comfort, she was missing the thing that would comfort most.
Him.
You’re being an idiot.
Still, she sighed when he opened the front door of the house, her hands bound in her cuffs behind her back as always. She’d quickly become at peace with the lawman’s penchant for keeping her bound in some way nearly every hour of the day.
And she’d stopped denying that it turned her on in a dark, embarrassing way either.
It would be another lonely night in her cell downstairs, the soft pillows cradled in arms that longed for hard, heavy muscle to snuggle against, the power and protection of the man she lusted after wrapped around her, like a shield, like loving bonds.
Fool.
He opened the door, stepping aside to let her pass. She took a step inside, but his hand touched her. First her arm, and she looked back at him. His eyes were dark, his gaze keen, an intensity she’d never seen before.
She turned to him, running on pure instinct, meeting those dark eyes, brushing the swells of her breasts against his chest, going up on tip toes, her lips close to his. His breath was warm, inviting on her skin. He didn’t retreat, didn’t reprimand, so she drew still closer, watching him all the while, ignoring the jackhammer beat of her heart, instead thinking of how much she wanted to feel his lips against hers — even if it cost her a hot, painful bottom in the process.
Or maybe because it will cost you a hot, painful bottom.
He caught her chin in one hand, lifting it, looking into her eyes for a long, heated moment. Then his lips pressed to hers, and she melted against him, letting him take her in her arms, both of them knowing she couldn’t reciprocate.
Ford pinned her against the wall next to the open door then, grasping her by the hair, tilting her face up to his so that he could devour her swollen lips, taste her surrender upon his own tongue. Her nipples, like hard, throbbing bullets brushed against his chest as his tongue quested deeply between her lips, her body trembling with need, with her want, hoping, willing him to take it further — to take her further.
She didn’t know how long they kissed like that, the first star already visible in the darkening twilight sky.
He took her by the arm, and spun her around, uncuffing her. Instead of leading her down the stairs to the basement though, he led her up a different set of stairs — the ones that led to his bedroom.
“Sir?”
“Hush,” he said, pressing a finger to her lips as he drew her into his room. He tore at her tank top, ripping it from her arms, the fabric rending as it went, her breasts bouncing into view. Grasping her hair in a tight, burning grip, he pulled her to him again, his lips crushing hers, his teeth nipping, his breath a low growl as he tasted her again. Wrenching her throat back, he feasted on the hollow of her neck, her clit singing, spasming as his lips, tongue and teeth played upon that most sensitive of flesh.
“Oh God… Ford. Sir!”
“Shh,” he said. “I want those shorts off now, girl.”
She clawed at them, looking up at him as she stooped to kick off her heels and pull her feet free of the fabric of her shorts. He unbuttoned the white dress shirt he’d worn to the station, eschewing that tight tan uniform while off duty.
Revealing the broad expanse of his naked chest, she fell upon him, tasting those muscles, the tight, brown nipples against her lips. Shockingly, he indulged her, but only for a moment.
“Get on that bed, and spread your legs, girl.”
She practically threw herself atop the high mattress, turning over immediately, opening her thighs wide, despite the shame she still felt at revealing all to his gaze. She was past that now, even if her body’s reaction wasn’t. She had to have him, in any way he’d let her.
Standing next to the bed, he watched her intently as he kicked off his boots, dropping his jeans, that thick, heavy cock springing up immediately. She reached for it, but he slapped her hand away.
“No.”
He fell upon her then, his weight pressing the air from her lungs, his hips pinning hers to the mattress, his hot, throbbing cock laid upon her belly as he wrenched her thighs still wider.
“Next time you’re told to open your legs, you’ll do it, girl.” He reached under her ass, clutching a still sore bottom cheek. “Or you’ll be getting a reminder about doing as you’re told.”
“Yes… yes, sir,” she said, her breath already coming faster.
“Give me those hands.”
She reached up to him and he took them in one of his, the grip tight, almost to the point of pain as he pinned them to the mattress behind her head. He took hold of her breast then, the big penis brushing against her inner thigh.
“Look at me, girl.”
And she did, her cheeks flaming hot, his eyes brilliant then, not leaving hers as his cock thrust deep.
She arched up as he seated himself fully within her, his girth stretching her well past comfort, her pussy not at used to a man of his size.
“Oh fuck,” she breathed, her voice almost frantic as he took up a gentle plunge and retreat within her well-stretched pussy. “God, you’re…oh my God!”
“Keep those legs open, girl. I shouldn’t have to tell you that,” he growled, pushing deep, so deep her breath hitched in her chest.
He bent to her chest, taking each breast in a crushing grip, laving and sucking deep on first one, then the other nipple, his hard teeth sometimes worrying the aching tips, drawing a pained moan from Falon’s lips.
He kissed her again then, his lips and tongue roaming everywhere upon her skin, pressing kisses to her cheeks, the line of her jaw, even the tip of her nose, as if he wanted to explore every inch of her, impress his ownership on her any way he could.
She moaned into his mouth as he took up a vigorous thrusting then, her soaked sex easing the way for him, as he rocked against her, the heavy head of his cock brushing against her cervix on a particularly deep stroke, his pubic bone grinding against a swollen clit she feared was near to exploding.
“Oh God, sir…. I’m…”
“Not until I say, girl. You come before I say, and you’re going to find yourself bent over the end of this bed crying your eyes out from the attentions of my paddle.”
Oh my God!! I can’t hold on!
Three tremendous thrusts shook the entire bed, rocking her body beneath him, her breath a pained gasp as he drove deep, the delicious friction against her clit pushing her over the edge.
“Now, girl. Come for me,” he growled into her ear.
Her moan spiraled up into frantic shrieks, her consciousness fading in an explosion of pleasure, her hips bucking hard below him, her pussy tightening upon his length over and over. Her orgasm seemed to tip him over too, for he groaned long and loud, his head thrown back, hot seed flooding deep inside her as he rammed as deeply as he could go once, twice, a third time, before collapsing upon her, his ragged breath joining hers, both of them spent with a soul-deep exhaustion only orgasm could cause.
It wasn’t long before she felt his cock stir to life once more, Ford flipping her onto her belly and pulling her hips up, his growled order to keep her face down, and her ass up something that sent chills down her spine, even as it made her pussy weep anew.
Time seemed to ebb and flow as the night went on, their bodies entwined as they both fell asleep, Falon waking deep into the small hours of the morning to feel Ford’s thick penis parting the sodden, sw
ollen folds of her sex one last time, his soft order to be a “good girl” whispered at her ear, her fevered murmurs and the grinding of her hips her only response as he took her one last time before oblivion claimed them both.
Chapter 17
That day seemed to be a turning point, in more ways than one. But as always, the gruff, complicated cop kept her on her toes.
She could no longer deny she craved another glance at that soft side to Ford Mathis, but she also knew she still had a purpose, a deal she’d agreed to.
There was a problem though: the original reason for that deal — getting her big story — seemed less and less important by the day.
What was quietly blooming between them, even if he’d never admitted it, was becoming the focus of her attention — and her heart.
The next couple days following the first time they’d made love had gone much as her first forty-eight hours in his custody though. He took great delight in keeping her bound in some way nearly all day long. Her trips to the station so that he could work inevitably involved a long stay in the cell, while he worked, her gaze inevitably falling upon him, watching him engrossed in the work of a small town Sheriff, work that largely seemed to consist of paperwork.
Interspersed between those long periods of quiet, Ford turned his attention to her. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her for very long, often visiting her jail cell at work. Sometimes he’d simply gaze at her for long minutes, meeting her eyes, then taking in the rest of her — and letting her see him do it.
Sometimes he’d growl at her to present herself to him, which involved standing up straight, her shoulders back. He’d make her turn this way and that so that he could look at her, even though she remain clothed — at least at the station.
It was when he got her back to the house that things would change though, for he would fall upon her before the front door even closed. He reveled in taking her in every room of the house, her always bound in some way. How often had he fucked her bent over the kitchen counter, his hand twisted in her hair, wrenching her head back as he pounded into her, her frantic gasps the only sounds the hated gag allowing her?