by Lora Leigh
Impatiently, he tossed their shirts aside, cupped her face in one hand and kissed her hard. Her hands explored his chest, his stomach, lower. God help him, he didn’t want to rush this, but he didn’t believe he had the strength to go slow. He reached around with one hand and unhooked her bra. He took a step back and looked into her hungry eyes before letting his gaze drop to her breasts. He wasted no time divesting her of the pretty lacy barrier.
Sam licked her kiss-swollen lips and closed her eyes. Perfect little pink nipples hardened under his intense gaze as he tossed her bra in the same direction he’d tossed her shirt. “You’re beautiful, Sam,” he murmured, not even sure if she heard him.
Her skin was like silk against his fingertips, her nipples like hard pebbles pressing eagerly against his palms as he kneaded her full breasts. He released them long enough to help her free him from his jeans and to help her out of hers. Her fingers curled around his shaft and squeezed gently. He groaned and yanked her against him. If she kept doing that, it would all be over too soon. He wasn’t nearly ready for that.
Voraciously, she kissed him, sucking and biting at his lips. She was like a little flame in his arms, hot and out of control. Because he knew what she was about, he feigned letting her push him backward onto the couch. As she tried to straddle him, he held her still and flipped her onto her back.
“Not yet, sugar. You’re back in the wild, wild west now.” He could feel the moist heat from her against his knee positioned between her thighs. “We have a certain way of doing things here.”
He kissed along her collarbone, down to the valley between her firm, round, luscious breasts. Her nipples, already tight with arousal, tightened even more as he drew circles around one with his thumb. Sam moaned as his tongue stroked the other. “I think you’re just enjoying watching me squirm.”
“No, just savoring you.” He watched her as he drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking firmly as he teased the other between his fingers. Her sexy blue-green eyes widened incredulously, and she bit her plump lower lip.
“This is torture.” Her long fingers fisted in his hair as she arched her back, her soft thighs pressing against his.
Unable to resist the allure of feeling her warm, supple body he moved against her, sliding his way slowly up to her long, lovely neck. Devouring her with his mouth, sucking and licking the smooth silken skin of her throat. He continued to caress her breast, gently lifting, squeezing, rasping her hard nipple against his palm. He felt the rumble of her groan against his tongue, and his mouth moved higher, along her jaw.
She arched up, pressing her body firmly against him. His cock throbbed urgently against the cushion of her stomach. He wanted her to remember this night, just as he would.
His hand moved lower along her lush abdomen. His fingers trailed through the beads of moisture, her skin growing slick, and he wasn’t unaffected either. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back as he fought for restraint.
He drew back as he spread her thighs and moved between them. Urgently, he caressed her, his fingers parting her plump, slick folds. Sam gasped and pressed against his hand as he stroked her sensitive honeyed flesh. She was soaked and so hot. Her scent was so inviting. He was dying to taste her; he wouldn’t be able to wait. Next time, he would take his time and have his fill. Now, he needed to be inside her.
He drew the broad head of his cock through the sodden folds of her pussy, relishing the sounds of her pleasure. He gathered the only modicum of self-control he had and gently nudged the tight entrance of her body. He didn’t want to slam inside her. He wanted it to last, to take her slowly and sweetly. He slid in marginally, barely an inch, feeling her muscles pulse around him.
Son of a bitch, it felt so damn good, stroking his flesh with each harsh breath she fought for. He gripped her hips, holding her steady. The dim light gave him a clear view of her glistening, damp curls, and the burrowing of his hard length between them.
He swallowed tightly, on fire with the sensations sweeping through his body as he inched farther inside, his cock pulsing with the need to climax.
Watching her as he took her, seeing her body accept him, hearing her moan his name, it took sheer force of will not to drive into her. He withdrew and sank in again, deeper, grinding his hips into her as she lifted her body to meet his slow thrusts.
“Hunter, please.” It was her tormented plea that shattered his self-control.
He fell forward, catching himself on his elbows and clasping her head in his hands. “Open your eyes.” His voice was hoarse and dark. “Look at me, Sam.”
When she lifted her gaze, his hips retreated. Her eyes widened before he slammed forward, driving every hard, desperate inch of his cock into the contracting depths of her vagina. A rosy flush infused her cheeks as her hips pushed against him, demanding more. Her eyes didn’t leave his, but her eyelids lowered just enough to give her a mischievous, sexy look that made him crazy. “Faster…” The word was like a moan from deep inside her.
He braced himself, preparing to give her what she wanted. What he needed. His hips powered into her. Thrust after long, hard thrust as they both groaned and arched, drawing them both toward release.
Samantha cried out. He loved the sounds she made, all of them. But the way she moaned his name sounded somewhere between a plea and a demand and sent him over the edge. Another sharp cry issued from her throat as she began to climax. He was only a second away. Her nails bit into his arms as she rode it out with him. He clenched his teeth, as he felt the power of his ejaculation rippling through his body.
He groaned, holding himself deep and tight within her as his seed pumped hard and fast inside her pulsating flesh.
Hunter barely caught himself before he collapsed on top of her. At the last second, he twisted his body and took her into his arms, falling with her. His eyes closed in exhaustion as he fought for breath, and for sanity. Yeah, that was what he needed. Sanity.
He caressed the dip in Sam’s back, feeling her tremble as he lightly stroked her damp skin. They were both fighting for breath. He felt alternately proud as hell and scared to his toenails. Sex shouldn’t be that damned good; it wasn’t natural.
Sam sighed deeply and wiggled against him as she let it out. He liked that a little too much. “I could fall asleep like this.” Her voice was so sexy, soft, and raspy. “Don’t fall asleep, I’ll get my second wind here in a minute and we’ll go for seconds.”
Her breath caught. He heard it, felt the stillness of her body. “Oh damn. I might have to have more coffee first.” She even had a sexy laugh.
“Just rest here then.” He laughed, making himself untangle and move out from her. She moaned in protest and flopped onto her back as he stood. She looked incredible lying there all sprawled out. He could look at her like that for hours.
“No.” She sat up and he frowned. “We really should go.” There was a hint of regret in her voice as she picked up their clothes.
“Yeah,” he agreed reluctantly. He’d be damned if he’d push her, and she was kinda right. “I guess so.”
She gave him a half smile. Goddam, she looked cute as hell standing there naked, her hair a wreck and that sleepy, resigned look on her face. “Bathroom?”
“Down the hall, to the left.” Of course she was right. It was late. They should head out for tonight. This wouldn’t be the last time; they’d just gotten started. Scary thing was, Hunter wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough.
She nodded and started down the hall, then stopped and turned around. “Hunter, we didn’t use a condom.”
Dammit all to hell. That had never happened to him before. He’d always been careful when it came to protection for both him and his lover. This was a complication neither of them needed. Being on the force, they both got checked regularly. He did anyway, he assumed she did as well. No STD worries. But shit, he hadn’t even thought about using a condom. He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, Sam—”
She waved a hand. “I’m on the pill and I’m healthy.
You?”
He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, we get tested regularly. Still, I shouldn’t have been so careless.”
“Psh, neither of us should have.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “I’ll just be a moment.”
Hunter relaxed as he watched her walk down the hall. Son of a bitch, Sam had him completely discombobulated. What was worrisome was the fact that he was loving it.
chapter five
In the country, the night could be so dark. The stars were brighter, though, and there were so many. Samantha could stare at the sky for hours. Hunter held her hand, helping her as they made their way back to their cars. Never in a million years did she think this would have happened. She willed herself not to read anything into it, steeling herself against the inevitable.
The sound of an urgent female voice came from inside his truck as they got closer. Hunter looked back at her before dropping her hand. She followed as he swung open the door and grabbed the mouthpiece of his radio.
“I’m here, Carol. What’s up?”
“Hey, Sheriff.” The woman sighed with relief. “I’ve been trying to reach someone for a while now. The Millers are at it again. Mr. Miller is armed with a shotgun. Mrs. Miller has a knife.”
“Rodgers and Decker?” he questioned her, knowing the deputies were scheduled for duty that night.
“No response on here or cell,” Carol reported. “According to the neighbors, this is worse than before, Sheriff. They think Mr. Miller’s been on some kind of drugs in recent weeks because he’s been more erratic than normal.”
Drugs. Just what the hell he needed.
“Shit. Got it. On my way.” Hunter put the mic back and turned to Samantha and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was quick, sweet, and warm.
“You might need backup.” It didn’t make sense to answer a call like that alone. Of course, Hunter knew almost everyone in the county and his charm got him far. Still, it wouldn’t hurt for her to go along and help out. She had her service revolver with her.
“Oh, hell no. You’re going home, Pixie. I’ll call you tomorrow. Go home and get some sleep.”
She’d pretty much expected him to reject that idea.
She smiled at him as she got into her car.
It wasn’t a request, and yet she wasn’t obeying. He had to know she wasn’t about to go home and leave him to deal with two armed crazy people alone.
She followed him down the drive and waited a moment before she turned onto the main road behind him. After a second or two, she turned on her headlights. The taillights of Hunter’s truck were just ahead.
The Millers lived in a little broken-down shack off of Mulholland Hill Road. It was a steep road that snaked up and around a mountain ridge. Back in the day, it was an area known for being populated by gold prospectors hoping to strike it rich. Now, it was mostly older folks stubbornly holding on to their small herds, trying to keep their run-down family ranches going, and poverty-stricken alcoholics inhabiting little shacks that were barely standing.
The neighbors probably called 911 when they heard the Millers fighting.
She could hear them before she cleared the curve. She cut her lights and slowed down, watching Hunter pull into their drive, get out, and draw his weapon.
Mrs. Miller was on the porch, ranting and raving, swinging a meat cleaver. Mr. Miller was stumbling around with a shotgun. So far the gun was pointed at the ground.
This situation could go very badly fast. She could see the neighbors down the road as they stood in their doors or on their porches, their gazes glued to the scene unfolding next door. Their porch lights were on, giving a clear view of the mad man toting a shotgun.
And they said city folks were dumb. They were on average damned smarter than this, she thought.
Samantha pulled into the neighbor’s drive. Exiting the car, she pointed at the couple beginning to move into the yard.
“For your own safety, please return to the house,” she told them. “I’m with Sheriff Steele. He doesn’t need any distractions at the moment.”
They scowled and mumbled something rude, but did as she asked. She retrieved her service revolver from the glove compartment and moved in low along the line of untended shrubs until she was directly behind the Millers.
“Bitch,” Miller was screaming, his bull-like body weaving almost drunkenly. “You fucking bitch. Look what you’ve done. Caused the sheriff to come out here. You fuckin’ waste of breath.”
Mrs. Miller started sobbing and raised the cleaver to her husband. Mr. Miller grabbed her arm and twisted until she dropped the weapon, then he backhanded her and screamed for her to shut up.
“Eldon. Put the gun down. Don’t make me shoot you, man. Come on now.” Hunter’s voice was calm and controlled, but his tone gave away his true intent.
He was serious. If he had to shoot the man, he would. He’d hate it, and he probably wouldn’t sleep over it a night or two, but he wouldn’t hesitate.
“This is between me and my wife!” Eldon Miller grabbed his wife by the hair and yanked her against him as she cried out in fear. “Why the fuck you gotta always bring your ass up here nosin’ in my business? That uncle of yours shoulda taught you better.”
Hunter didn’t rise to the bait. He watched the man closely, looking for an opening to help Mrs. Miller and to neutralize Eldon without killing him.
“I’m here to help. Things have gotten out of hand this time. Let’s just put the guns away and talk it out, okay?” Hunter suggested calmly.
Eldon shook his head and stumbled, almost releasing his wife. “You first.”
Hunter shook his head. “That’s not how this works and you know it. Put the shotgun down, and then I’ll put mine away,” he promised. “Then we can talk this out.”
Eldon watched him closely, his broad face intent, as he watched Hunter, wide-eyed.
“Promise you won’t take me in?” he bargained.
“Can’t do that. But if you put the gun down now, it’ll only help your case,” Hunter advised him. “Come on, Eldon, you and I don’t want to fight. Last time you bloodied my nose, and it hurt like a bitch for a week. But you know I’ll go head-to-head with you.”
Eldon nodded as though Hunter’s tone wasn’t faintly teasing.
“I did,” he agreed, almost soberly. “But it was this bitch’s fault,” he snarled as he shook his wife with one hand. “She won’t keep her damned screamin’ down, and she’s always tryin’ to tell me what to do.”
“Come on, Eldon, let’s let her out of this. You know she’s too little to fight. You wanna fight, I’ll let you have first swing. Let her go,” Hunter tried again.
Eldon shook Mrs. Miller by her hair. She cried out and grabbed his hands, trying to get free. He just yanked harder. “This here’s my woman. Ain’t none of anybody’s business! It ain’t none of your business.”
His look dared Hunter to disagree.
“Well, you’re wrong about that, Eldon. You’re not allowed to beat on Vanetta whenever you get mad. We talked about this last time,” Hunter reminded him, but it was obvious he was getting nowhere with Eldon.
The other man kept aiming that damned shotgun in Hunter’s direction, his finger far too close to the trigger.
Samantha clenched her jaw. She was all too familiar with domestic abuse. It was clear this wasn’t the first or even the second time Vanetta Miller had been beaten by her husband. Most likely Vanetta refused to press charges, every time. Eventually Vanetta would be dead.
Samantha crouched low, keeping to the shadows, as she moved closer. Hunter kept talking quietly, and finally Eldon laid his shotgun on the ground. As he stood back up, Hunter holstered his gun. “Let her go, Eldon. I’m gonna have to cuff you.”
Eldon shoved Vanetta to the ground as he reached behind him.
He’d just been waiting for Hunter to holster his gun. The pistol he pulled from the small of his back would kill Hunter as close as the two men were.
It cleared his waist, lifted.
“Gun!” Samantha shouted as she fired.
There was no time to second-guess, to try to wound rather than kill. It was Hunter or Eldon.
Eldon crumpled. Hunter and Samantha ran in together. Samantha got ahold of Vanetta as the hysterical woman went for the discarded shotgun.
“Hell of a shot, Pixie. He’s dead.” The expression on Hunter’s face told her it wasn’t a compliment.
“I know,” she said flatly, as she held onto the dead man’s wife. Vanetta was cussing and screaming. Her mouth was bleeding, tears streamed from her swollen eyes, leaving dirty tracks down her bruised cheeks. “But you’re not.”
“Fuck, Sam. Have you lost your damn mind? I told you to go the hell home!”
“If I had, all three of you would be dead!” Samantha glared up at him. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears, and her stomach was churning. Even though it wasn’t the first time she’d taken a life in the line of duty, there were always consequences. It tore at her, left her shaken to the core. But by God, she hoped it always would; it meant she still had a soul. “Vanetta, I need you to breathe.”
The other woman stared back at her, dazed. “You killed my husband!”
Samantha led the woman to the porch. “Sit here, now. Take a deep breath. Slowly.”
Vanetta inhaled deeply then released her breath with a shudder. “He’s gone?” Hope resonated in her voice.
“He’s gone,” Samantha agreed softly. “You okay?”
Vanetta nodded, gripping Samantha’s hand tight. “He wanted to kill Sheriff Steele. Said it was his destiny or some shit.” She shuddered as she spoke. “He went crazy on me. He just went crazy…”
“She needs to be questioned,” Samantha stated, as Hunter returned to her side. “He meant to kill you.”
“So I heard,” he said coldly.
Hunter had gone to his truck to get gloves and an evidence bag. He held out his hand. “Weapon, gotta bag and tag.” His voice was tight, from holding back his anger she assumed.
Procedure. So much procedure.
Samantha nodded and looked at Vanetta for a moment. Shock was settling in. “I got her. Go sit in your car,” Hunter said too quietly.