by River Savage
“You got great tits, sweetheart.” His breath hitches, and if I didn’t pick up the drop of his voice, I wouldn’t know he’s close.
“Yeah? You like fucking them?” I move things along. Working myself deeper into arousal. Who would have guessed this shit makes me wild?
“Fuck, yeah, been thinking about fucking them from the moment I saw that shirt of yours today, wet and plastered to you.”
“Is that what your issue was? You were thinking about fucking them?” I ask, unsure if he’s messing with me, or this is a fantasy of his. Titty fucking isn’t high up on my list of must-dos, but with Hetch doing it, I could easily make it a weekly occurrence.
“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, the sound urging me to squeeze him tighter.
“Would have taken you around the back and sucked on those tight nipples, but we kind of had an audience.” I laugh, picturing how things would have gone down if we were caught in a compromising position like that.
“You’re always thinking about sex.” For some reason, my breath starts to rise, as if I’m doing all the work here.
“If I’m with you, yeah.” His balls slap against my skin, tightening my core even more. “Fuck, squeeze harder,” he orders and my hands push in at his command. “You ready, baby?” he asks, and if I wasn’t ready before, I am now. Ready for whatever he wants to give me.
“Yeah,” I pant, blowing warm air over the head of his cock.
“Don’t look at it, look at me.” My eyes rise up to his, just as the first spray of warm cum hits my neck. “Fuck yes!” He grinds, the muscles in his neck pulsing as he tenses and flexes with his orgasm.
A second spurt of cum hits my chin, a third on my neck.
Fuck me.
My core convulses with each groan, each hit of warm cum pushing me further into a frenzy.
“Jesus, Hetch.” I whimper under him. Watching him come apart has to be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.
He continues to push his hips forward, sliding in and out of the tight place I’ve created for him until he starts to slow his pace.
“Sweetheart, I think you just topped my spank bank material.” He reaches down, runs a finger through his cum and circles my nipple.
“Get it off me.” I release my hands, letting my tits fall naturally apart. The sexy part now over, I’m left with the aftermath of his release all over me.
I’m all for swallowing it, spitting it, even taking it, but wearing it, not so much.
“I don’t think so, babe. I’m gonna fuck you like this now.” He moves his body down mine, taking his cock and leaving his cum.
“I’m serious. Get it off.” I start to wiggle out of his embrace wanting to be cleaned up before we go any further. Hetch, having other ideas locks his grip on my thighs, spreads me open then lines himself up at my entrance.
“It’s staying there while I fuck you. Maybe next time you’ll learn not to be a greedy little thing,” he taunts while gliding himself into my wet and waiting pussy.
My body wants to argue some more, my mouth open and ready, but before I get a chance, he picks up his pace and all thoughts of cum and where it doesn’t belong have left my mind.
“Ahh, harder,” I groan, lifting my hips to meet each one of his thrusts.
“You have no idea how fucking sexy you look right now. My cum all over your tits and my cock filling your pussy. Maybe I should fuck you like this every day, sweetheart,” he teases some more, pushing into me with harder, longer strokes.
“You wish.” I gasp, body coiling up ready to find my own release.
“Are you going to obey me next time I tell you not to come?” he asks, but my orgasm is barreling toward me in record speed, and I don’t want to lose it.
“Answer me, sweetheart, or this ends,” he warns, and it's all the incentive I need to let go, screaming out my release with my answer.
“Yesss! Yes. Yes, I’m going to obey.” I tell him what he wants to hear, but I’m not sure I mean it.
Maybe disobeying every now then wouldn’t hurt.
Even if it means a repeat of what just went down. Sticky mess and all, there was no denying I would do it again.
Hell, I’d do anything Hetch asked me.
Now that is a dangerous thought.
Nineteen
Hetch
“You know what I think?” Mitch pulls me from my staring and back to the moment at hand where I should be paying attention.
“What do you think?” I focus back on the game in front of me, wondering how the fuck he could enjoy this.
“I think you love her.”
“W-who?” I’m at a loss for words. Unsure where his assessment comes from, and how to respond to it.
“Liberty. You haven’t stopped looking at her since we came out here.” He raises a brow looking way older than his fifteen-year-old self.
I’m at Boys Haven a few days after the fundraising car wash, having some one-on-one time with Mitch.
“Yeah, not something I’m talking about with you.” I make my move on the chessboard we have set up on the patio table. I’m not very good at this game, my confession ringing true when Mitch makes his move and calls out “Checkmate.”
Fuck.
“Seriously, where the hell did you learn to play?” I ask, more than impressed.
“My dad.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I know that shrug. I think I might have invented that shrug.
“Oh, yeah? He good?” Liberty briefed me on how to act and what to expect when talking to the boys. Generally, they tend to keep to themselves, only sharing information when they are comfortable. I’m not expecting any miracles, but something tells me Mitch is comfortable enough to share.
“He was. Before he stopped playing.” He pauses for a minute, twirling the king piece between his fingers. “Before the drugs.” I don’t know what to say to his confession. I’m not trained in the whole how-to-talk-to-a-teenage-kid thing, but something tells me he wants to open up to me.
“When did things start getting bad?” I might not know what he’s been through, but if his dad slipping away due to drugs is anything like my father slipping away due to a mental illness, I may have something to work with.
“It kind of happened so fast, you know? One minute he was the best dad, taking me to baseball practice, and the next he was strung out.”
“It must have been tough.” I recall the first time my father tried to kill himself. I was fifteen. Mitch’s age. I walked in on my mother giving him mouth-to-mouth in his office. She screamed at me to call 911. I think I froze for a second. Seeing him lifeless. Seeing my mom try to save him. Seeing my sister rocking in the corner. Confused. Scared. Broken. I had only left to hang out with some friends down at the basketball courts a few hours before. Dad seemed his normal happy self when I said good-bye.
How did he go from laughing at breakfast to swallowing a whole bottle of pills by lunch?
“Yeah. I mean, he was a good dad. We had a good life. Seeing him become a different person, it messes with ya.”
“I hear you. I get it. My dad, he had some issues too.” I pick up the knight piece and like Mitch, roll it between my fingers. I hadn’t planned on revealing anything about my past, but sitting here with him letting me in, it flows out.
“He an addict too?” Mitch pauses, waiting for my confirmation.
“No, but he had some pretty hard knocks,” I tell him, not sure how much I should reveal.
“He kill your mom?” The question is laced with a challenging tone, so I give it to him straight.
“No, he killed himself. In front of me,” I add, maybe to get his attention, maybe because it feels good to tell someone who won’t judge or pity me.
“Fuck. That’s brutal.” He sits a little straighter.
“It is.” I ignore his language, knowing if I try to educate him on manners right now, I’ll lose him.
“How old were you?” His voice drops along with his eyes.
“Thirty.”
“I was n
ine.”
Fuck, this kid is killing me.
“It stays with you, Mitch. Always will, you know?” His head rises at my honesty.
“How do you deal?”
“Honestly? Some days I don’t. Some days it’s all I see. The blood. The fucking mess. It can play over and over in my head. But I still have to make a choice, you know?” I watch as he nods, taking in everything I am giving him. “I choose to get up, and go to work and do good. Like you have a choice. You can choose to do better. Not walk down the same path as your brother, you know.” My dig about his brother may be a low blow, but I’m still pissed we haven’t been able to get him on anything.
“What if I don’t have a choice?” he asks, amplifying my concerns.
“There is always a choice, Mitch.” His Adam’s apple bounces twice before he asks his next question.
“What if there is no right choice? What if no matter what I choose, someone gets hurt?”
“Then you choose the best one for you. The one that keeps you safe. The one you can live with. You get me?” I want him to know he doesn’t have to worry about Liberty. That I have her back, but something tells me if I say it aloud right now, I’ll lose him.
“I don’t know what’s best for me.” He places the chess piece back on the board, setting it back up for another game.
“I think you do, Mitch. I think you know what’s good for you, but you’re scared.”
“He’s my family, Hetch. I walk away from him and I have nothing.” The words gut me, but not because I feel for him, but because hearing him say them hurts for Liberty. She loves him. Jesus, anyone can see it. “Seems to me you have a good family here too, you know?” I look around the backyard, seeing the tight knit group they have here. It’s evident as they stick close together no matter what they’re doing. “They might not be blood, but when they’ve dug their way so deep in here,”—I pat my chest, covering my heart—“you can’t get them out. They’re the family you hold onto, son.” He nods, before holding out his hand for the knight. I don’t give it right away, taking a moment to word my next sentence carefully.
“Just promise me, Mitch, whenever you decide to make the decision, you make it for you. And if you can’t make the decision yourself, then you call me. Any time. Any place. I’ll be there. No matter what. And we’ll make it together. You think you can handle that?” I ask, hoping like hell I’m getting through to him.
“Yeah, I can.”
“Good.” I hand over my knight.
“So, you want another game?” he asks, and even though I’ve been here for over an hour and am so fucking over chess, I still say yes.
“Yeah, but go easy on me this time. My rep is at stake here.”
“Dude, I have been,” he says, and for a brief second, I see the carefree teen he should be, right before he laughs loud enough to gain Liberty’s attention. She smiles, then waves, and like every other time she looks at me, I’m sucked back into her hemisphere.
Twenty
Liberty
“Can I get a double cheeseburger with fries and a strawberry milkshake?” Mitch looks over the top of his menu to gauge my reaction.
Boys.
“I’ll get the same, but no milkshake. I’ll have a diet soda, please.” The waitress smiles as she takes our menus, and tells us she’ll be right back with our drinks.
“Snack, huh?” I ask Mitch, sitting back in my chair.
It’s a Saturday afternoon, and after spending a few hours at the library with Mitch so he could get some studying in, we decided we would stop in for a drink. Which turned into a snack. Which clearly to a fifteen-year-old, means a meal.
“Well, I did work up an appetite with all the work I’ve put into my English assignment.” He shrugs and then moves back to his cell phone. I have to agree. He has been working hard these last few weeks.
Ever since the car wash and spending some one-on-one time with Hetch, it’s like he’s a different person.
“How are you doing in the rest of your classes?” I ask, taking the opportunity to have my own one–on-one time with him. While Mitch has been back on the program for two weeks, he still has to have a chaperone everywhere he goes. Despite Hetch’s persistency, Dominic still hasn’t been picked up, and my commitment to keeping him away from Mitch is still strong.
“It’s getting a lot easier,” he answers, while his fingers dance over the keyboard, typing at expert speed.
I want to ask who he’s texting, ask if Dominic has contacted him, but before I have a chance to address it, he finishes up his text and slides it into the pocket of his hoodie.
“That’s good. You keep studying and working hard, you’ll be on track for college,” I tell him, as he reaches for the ketchup bottle and starts spinning it in front of him.
A lot of kids who grow up through the system don’t think they are capable of that sort of opportunity. But if Mitch keeps going the way he is, away from his brother, applying himself, and staying out of trouble, I truly believe he has a real shot.
“I don’t know, Lib.” His eyes don’t quite meet mine, and I wonder if he’s as worried about his brother getting in the way as I am.
“Has your brother been in contact with you, Mitch?” I come right out and ask him. If I wanted to check his phone, I could, but I want to give him a chance to talk to me about it first.
“No, I haven’t heard from him since Hetch picked me up a few weeks back.” His spinning of the ketchup bottle ceases when the waitress returns with our drinks.
Mitch digs into his milkshake right away, while I decide to wait for my meal.
“Do you know where he is?” I press a little more.
“I already told Hetch I don’t know anything,” he snaps, and I realize I might have pushed too far.
“Okay, I just wanted to check with you. So, how do you like your one-on-one time with Sergeant Hetcherson?” I ask, hoping I haven’t ruined our easygoing conversation.
“You know, he’s pretty, cool.” I nod because I do know. Hetch is way cool. All the boys at Haven are in love with him. They hang on every word he says when he comes to visit with Mitch.
I’ve tried asking Hetch how his time with Mitch is coming along, but he hasn’t revealed anything since they’ve been spending time together. Just keeps telling me Mitch is opening up more and more with each visit and he has everything under control.
“I think he loves you.” He pushes his milkshake back and folds his arms over his chest, with a smirk on his face.
“What are you talking about?” My voice starts to rise on the last word, but I manage to catch it in time.
“Hetch, he totally loves you.” His brows bounce with humor, his grin spreading wider.
“No, Mitch.” I shake my head and reach for my soda.
“Aww, come on, Lib. I know y’all think you’re hiding it, but I’ve seen the way you look at him when he’s at the house.” He laughs when my face burns in embarrassment.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mitch.” I sip on my soda and pretend not to be affected.
Shit, have I been obvious?
“If you say so, Liberty.”
“I do say so.”
Mitch opens his mouth to continue but shuts it when the subject of our conversation coincidently strolls into the diner with three other officers.
The air stills and a calmness, which wasn’t there before, settles over the place.
Hetch clocks us instantly. A slow smile steals over his face when his eyes connect with mine.
Jesus, he’s handsome.
Tallest of the four, his strong, powerful presence commands not only attention but respect. I know I say it every time I see him in his uniform, but holy shit.
Somehow, his navy shirt seems tighter today, and the black military pants that had me wanting to climb him this morning when I watched him dress, has me wanting to climb him all over again.
“What were you saying, Liberty?” I ignore Mitch’s jab and focus my attention on Hetch until he
’s standing directly in front of us.
“Hey, Mitch. Liberty.” He offers me a wink before sliding in next to Mitch.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask when Sterling slides in next to me and the remaining Fox and Hart occupy the booth next to us.
“We dropped in for lunch.” A quick flick of his gaze to Sterling, and a few snorts from the booth over tells me he’s lying.
“How did you know we were here?” I ask Hetch, but my eyes track Mitch’s sudden tensing.
He was texting Hetch.
Well, there’s my answer to who he’s been chatting to.
“Don’t be mad, Lib. I was chatting with him, and told him we were hanging out here,” Mitch confesses right away. Hetch doesn’t say anything, just calmly takes a menu from the waitress and starts looking it over.
“So you thought you would invite yourself.” I point my gaze to Hetch. I’m not angry at Mitch for texting him. I think it’s great he’s been spending time with him and connecting with him. I just wish he didn’t come around while I was working.
I find it too hard to concentrate, and I need to stay focused.
“We were in the neighborhood.”
Another lie.
Another few snorts.
“So what did you guys order?” He changes the subject, moving his attention back to the menu, and forcing me to let it go.
Seriously, I don’t know if I want to kiss him or smack him.
Maybe both.
“Cheeseburger and fries. They have great burgers here, right, Lib?” Mitch looks over at me, gauging my opinion.
“They’re pretty good.” I nod, backing him up.
“Okay, you sold me.” Hetch drops the menu back to the table as the radio attached to his belt comes to life.
“All units in the vicinity of Westchester and Vine, Code Three. Shots fired.”
Hetch and the boys stand in record speed before the dispatcher finishes his words.
“Rain check, Mitch?” Hetch asks, dropping a fifty-dollar bill down on the table.
“Yeah, for sure.” Mitch beams up at him, more excited than I’ve ever seen him before.