Bend ~ Molly McLain

by McLain, Molly

  “Two dudes?” I chuckle. “Nah, not really my thing, princess.”

  She tries to swat at me again, but I catch her wrist and pull her hand to my mouth, kissing her knuckles. Then I reach down and hit the button, moving my seat all the way back.

  “Come on,” I say, patting my lap.

  “What?” Her eyes go wide and her lips part.

  “Climb on board, princess. Before the train leaves the station.”

  “I’m not fucking you in my driveway, Trent.” She rolls her eyes, but I can see her scanning the lot of her apartment complex. She lives in a quiet neighborhood. Mostly older couples. No kids. No teenagers coming and going at this time of the night who might accidentally see something they shouldn’t.

  “Not asking you to fuck me in your driveway, Kins. Now get your sweet ass over here.”

  She shakes her head, but when I give her hand a tug, she tosses her purse onto the dash and sighs. “Fine, but only because you smell good.”

  I chuckle as she takes off her shoes and climbs over the console, a knee on each side of my thighs. It’s not the most comfortable position in the world, but with her legs spread, her dress creeps up toward her waist, giving me another glorified view of her sweet spot.

  I should be a gentleman and walk her to her door, but I slide my fingers over her cleft instead, loving her quick intake of breath when my fingertips brush her clit.

  “What part of being with two guys turns you on the most?” I ask, playing her gently. She’s still swollen from the bathroom and I want this to be as good for her now as it was the first time.

  Pressing her hands against my chest, she closes her eyes and for the longest moment, just lets me touch her. The look on her face is so fucking calm. The polar opposite of the fiery hunger that had been there just a short time ago.

  “Four hands,” she sighs. “Two mouths, two dicks . . . all that pleasure at once.”

  Her eyes are still closed, so I watch her . . . and wonder if she knows how breathtaking she is like this. Completely open, not just physically but emotionally, too. The Kinsey I’ve known for the past couple of years has always been so closed off. So tense. So untouchable. Until now.

  Unable to stop myself, I reach up and pluck out one of the pins barely holding her hair in place. The urge to break her down as much as she’ll let me is strong. So fucking strong that it rattles me a bit. I don’t do personal shit for other people unless I’m on the clock. I do me and only me.

  But tonight I want to do her.

  “What are you doing?” she whispers, but I hush her by sliding a finger inside. “God,” she breathes. “That feels so good.”

  “Just enjoy it,” I whisper back, removing another pin and then five, until her hair falls over her shoulders, in thick, dark waves.

  “So fucking pretty,” I murmur, letting my fingers thread through the silk while the others slip in and out of her wet, welcoming body.

  Her eyes flutter open and her chest begins to rise and fall a little faster with every breath she takes. “My God, what are you doing to me?” she pants, her hips slowly working against my hand.

  “Hands everywhere, princess. Isn’t that your fantasy?” And fuck if it isn’t quickly becoming mine.

  Her gaze locks on mine as she lifts and circles her ass, taking what she wants down below, while I take what I want up top. I know how chicks feel about having their hair played with, but what she doesn’t know is that I like it, too.

  Doing her tonight, my ass.

  I’ve wanted to fuck up Kinsey’s perfect existence since I laid eyes on her, three years ago. Why? Because she’s the kind of woman that can screw with a guy’s head. Make him start thinking about shit he has no business thinking about. Especially not a guy like me.

  “Why do you care what I want?” she whispers, and her eyes are so fucking pretty, all half-lidded and full of lust. “You don’t even like me.”

  “Yeah, I do, Kins.” She’s sweet when she’s not spitting fire at me, and both versions make me hot as hell. The thing is, I can’t—and I won’t—give her more than this. If she needs demanding hands and dirty words . . . Maybe a hard fuck every now and again, I’m her guy. Shit, her vulnerability does as much for me as it does her.

  But that’s all this will ever be. Me scratching her itch, because I can’t let her take a chance on messing with someone who won’t respect her limits.

  I know Kinsey’s secret, but she doesn’t know mine.

  And, if I have it my way, she never will.

  “TELL ME YOU DIDN’T SLEEP with her.”

  I glance up from my paperwork as Will slams both of his hands down on my desk bright and early Monday morning. His dark eyes bore into mine, trying to dig out the truth.

  “Who? Kinsey?” I never tell him the truth about my personal life. Hell, I never tell anyone the truth, because honesty always comes around to bite me in the ass one way or another. “Why the hell would you think that?”

  “You left with her.”

  “Yeah. To make sure she got home safe.”

  Will’s jaw tightens as he continues to stare.

  “What?” I throw a hand in the air. “She was upset. The captain didn’t tell her about changing jobs or that he was going to propose. Ended up being one hell of a night for her.”

  “Uh huh.” He pushes a hand through his hair and huffs out a frustrated breath. “Dude, you know you can’t fuck around with clients.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” I know the rules, though when it came to indulging Kinsey and keeping her away from the pool prick, I had no problem throwing them out the window.

  “Just because you were pissed that the captain’s announcement wasn’t what you thought it would be—”

  “Hold up.” I raise another hand and shake my head. “Don’t go around accusing me of that kind of bogus bullshit.” I might not be the most ethical guy when it comes to women, but I’m not so shallow that I’d bang the captain’s daughter just because he fucked me over.

  I fucked Kinsey because we both wanted it, plain and simple.

  “Unless, of course, the real issue is that I took her home and you didn’t,” I say, knowing damn well what his reaction will be.

  His face pinches and he pushes off my desk. “Shut the hell up, man.”

  “All right then. No reason to get pissed off when I ended up doing you a favor.”

  He makes a wry sound, and then drops down into Dez’s empty chair. He’s out on patrol this morning and in an hour I’ll join him. Good ol’ Monday morning on the Strip.

  “But since you brought her up, Kinsey has a solid lead on the perp. An employee.”

  “Catch any of it on surveillance?”

  I explain about the camera system being down and why Kinsey thinks this Tally chick is the one snatching the goods. “We’re going to watch the place at closing a couple nights this weekend. See if we can catch her.”

  Will blinks and, again, I know what he’s thinking before he even says it. “We?”

  “Yeah. At this point, I don’t have any reason to stop this chick and search her, unless Kinsey tells me that something’s been stolen.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

  “Gotta do what’s going to work, no?”

  “No wonder you’re still on patrol.”

  “Fuck you.” I’m bitter because I know he’s probably right. So sue me—I had a moment of weakness when Kinsey proposed her idea. Obviously, the whole idea of staking out the Mile employee parking ramp is pretty Mayberry in about 1955, but the background check I did on Tally shows it’s probably the best approach. She’s got a couple of battery charges, so my presence should prevent anything from happening to Kinsey if this girl decides to flip out. Without camera footage from inside the store, there’s not much else I can do.

  Short of fixing the damn cameras myself, anyway.

  “You know I put in a good word for you, right?”

  My eyes snap up to my buddy, reclined in the chair, with his arms folded behind
his head. “For what?”

  “For Investigations. With Deputy Chief Marcos.”

  No shit. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you’re not a bad cop when you’re not thinking with your dick.”

  I give a bark of laughter. “Oh, really.”

  “I’m serious, Clark. And rumor has it there really is an opening coming up. In Theft. I know it isn’t as exciting as dead pervs in thongs, but it’s a foot in the door.”

  The back of my neck begins to burn as the thought of finally getting the hell off patrol settles in. I haven’t let myself fully entertain the idea, because I hate being let down. But Will wouldn’t tell me this if he didn’t think there was a legitimate chance I could get in.

  “What’d Marcos say?”

  “Told me to give you Kinsey’s case.”

  Huh? “I thought Malloy asked you to look into that.”

  Will shakes his head. “Nope. Malloy doesn’t even know about it.”

  “Well, shit.” That means I’m technically going behind his back, doing work for another department. “You know I could get my ass in a jam for this.”

  Will lifts a shoulder. “Marcos said not to worry about it. Anything comes of it, he’ll back you up. Chances are pretty good that Malloy isn’t going to get his undies in a bunch over us helping Kinsey, though. ‘Course, if he was gonna get pissed at anyone, it’d be you, so. . . .”

  Exactly. “Some bone you threw me, asshole.”

  With that, he gets to his feet and grins. “You have to start somewhere, Clark. Might as well be in the doghouse.”

  Still on for this weekend? I text Trent later Tuesday night.

  You, me, and a bottle of lube?

  Funny guy.

  I try, princess. Want me to pick you up?

  9pm?

  One condition.

  Ok . . . ?

  Wear underwear. I won’t be able to work wondering if you’re bare assed again.

  Ha! Just for that, I won’t. Promise.

  He doesn’t respond, but it’s just as well. Friday night is business and I can’t go into it expecting more of what we did this past weekend. Granted, I wouldn’t argue if he wanted to fuck me until I forget my name, but I respect that he has a job to do, too. So do I. If I don’t figure out this mess with the missing inventory, corporate won’t be happy. If corporate isn’t happy, my job is at risk. I love what I do too much to take that chance.

  Even if those few stolen minutes with Trent were the best I’ve had in a long time.

  Shutting off the TV, I double-check the lock on the front door and pad barefoot to the bathroom for a quick shower. It’s only seven o’clock, but I’m still beat from the weekend and a little reading before an early bedtime sounds fabulous.

  When I’m done, I pull on a tank top and some shorts, then hurry to the living room to grab my phone.

  Where my dad is sitting on my couch. With my phone in hand.

  “What are you doing here? Again.” I snatch the phone away from him and, sure enough, my text from Trent is lit up on the screen. Thankfully, I’ve listed him as Hardass in my contacts and our conversation earlier is the only one we’ve ever had via text.

  “Who’s the loser?”

  “He’s not a loser.”

  “Those texts are all about sex.”

  “I’m twenty-six, Dad. I have sex.”

  He cringes and I hold my head high. If he can pop the question without giving me the slightest hint, he can deal with the image of me twisted like a pretzel around some faceless guy.

  “I heard you left with Sergeant Clark on Saturday.”

  I roll my eyes and hope like hell I don’t start to blush. “We shared a cab.” And a couple of orgasms. No biggie.

  He narrows his eyes, then sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the proposal. I wasn’t even sure I’d do it there, but the moment felt right.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You said your mom would like Shelby.”

  “She would, Dad. It’s not that. It’s just . . .” I push a wet lock of hair behind my ear. I honestly don’t know what bothers me so much about the new job and the proposal. Obviously, I wish he would have given me some warning, but it’s more than that. Maybe the fact that we don’t talk like we used to. A choice we’ve both made, so I can’t blame it entirely on him.

  “I know, honey.” He gets to his feet and wraps his arms around my shoulders, kissing the top of my head, even though it’s wet. “Let’s do something this weekend, just the two of us.”

  “Um . . .” I’m pretty much booked up with work during the day and then the surveillance with Trent at night, both Friday and Saturday. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Sunday brunch?”

  Thank God. “Perfect.” I squeeze him hard, reluctant to let go. “I’m happy for you and Shelby, Dad. She’s an amazing woman, and it’s obvious she makes you happy. Homicide, however . . . I didn’t see that coming.”

  “I only have a few more years in me, Kins. I want to spend it doing something I love.”

  “You’ll work with Will again?”

  He nods. “Yep. Looking forward to it. He’s one hell of a detective.”

  “He is,” I sigh, rubbing my cheek against his polo. “But he’s not my type, nor am I his.”

  “Why the hell not? He’s a solid man. Good head on his shoulders.”

  He’s just a little too solid. A little too straight. “He’s not interested, Daddy. Every time you try to push us together, all you do is make it awkward for the two of us. He’s a nice guy. I almost consider him a friend. I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

  My father visibly wilts. His shoulders droop, his chin drops . . . his eyes lose their luster. “I’ve always imagined your future husband with a badge.”

  “Oh, God, Dad.” I pull away, laughing softly. “Not me. Not even a little.”

  “What?” His eyebrows lift again. “You have something against cops?”

  “I haven’t met a one that isn’t completely stubborn. Present company included.”

  He grunts and his thick chest puffs as he inhales proudly. “Nothing wrong with being a little hard headed.”

  I tip my head to the side and smile. “So, you should be able to respect that I’ve made up my mind about this then.”

  His eyes narrow for a moment when he realizes I’m not giving in. “At least I don’t have to worry about you and Sergeant Clark.”

  Um . . . “Daddy, please.” Please don’t make me have to flat-out lie to you.

  He pushes a hand over his salt and pepper hair and sighs. “You sure you’re okay with me and Shelby?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Nodding, he twists his mouth into a nervous smile. “We’ve set a date. For next month.”

  “Holy crap.” I blink up at him. “She’s not pregnant, is she? I mean, I know she’s younger than you . . .”

  Dad tips his head back and laughs. “No, princess. We just don’t see any point in waiting.”

  Shelby lost her first husband around the same time we lost Mom. I know she and Dad have bonded over those experiences and I’m so glad they’ve found each other, but . . .

  Out of nowhere, it hits me . . . The reason I reacted the way I did on Saturday night. The reason I’ve been so unsettled since . . .

  I’ve always thought of myself as an independent woman. I know what I want out of life and, for the most part, that’s a solid, enjoyable career with a few perks along the way. A nice savings account, vacations, good sex . . .

  I haven’t done a lot of planning in regard to relationships, though. Settling down has never been a priority, and I realize now that it’s because I’ve always had my dad. Since Mom died five years ago—when my dating life really began—he’s been my rock. Him taking the next step with Shelby feels like that rock is crumbling. I guess I’ve known for a while that this would happen, but I never thought about where it would leave me . . .

  Alone.

  An only child with very little family beyond my fa
ther.

  Not quite as independent as I thought.

  “What can I do to help?” I ask, swallowing down the ball of emotion that’s suddenly lodged in my chest. “Are you going big or small? Here in Vegas or someplace else?”

  Dad gives a small, nervous smile. “Pretty small. Just family and a few close friends. We’re thinking California. Napa.”

  Of course. Shelby’s from northern California, after all. “That’ll be beautiful this time of year.”

  “Will you be there, princess? Will you give me your blessing?”

  “Dad . . .” His words hit me like a chilly gust of mountain air. They take my breath away for a moment, make my eyes water, too. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  BY THE TIME FRIDAY AFTERNOON rolls around, I’m done. Fried. Ready for a weekend of hitting the gym, watching preseason football, and drinking a couple beers. Why I agreed to scout out the Mile parking garage with Kinsey, I don’t know.

  Like Will pointed out . . . it’s a bad fucking idea, but I let her frustration and helplessness get to me. Her asshole ex was giving her shit and she was—and still is—worried about her job.

  I don’t do personal, but I do fix things. I blame it on my mother, the quintessential do-gooder of our dysfunctional family. The more my old man screwed up, the harder she worked to keep it together. I sure as hell never wanted to be like him, so I guess I naturally took after her. Trying a little more every day to make up for his shortcomings. His crimes.

  So, when I should be grabbing my shit and hitting the door, I take a seat at my desk instead. The station is quiet, with only a few of the second shifters hanging around and shooting the shit while the rest hit the streets for what’s bound to be another crazy Friday night on the Strip.

  I ran Tally Connor’s background check earlier in the week and a quick review revealed some obvious red flags. If Chloe’s Closet checks their employees before they’re hired, they have a serious problem with their system. This girl is a train wreck. A history of assault and battery, theft, and bail jumping a mile long, including two open felony cases in Reno.