by Ranae Rose
“Fuck, Sasha. This is…” He pulled back slowly and thrust hard into her again. “The best thing I’ve ever felt.”
She could’ve sworn she felt him getting even harder inside her. The sensation left her buzzing with pleasure, and faintly lightheaded. She started moving her own hips, letting her legs slide down onto the mattress so she’d have something to move against.
He moved harder, more deliberately, pushing deeper into her than ever.
Fleetingly, she thought of being cuffed on the edge of the bed, bound and completely open to him. For some reason, this simple way of coming together left her feeling even more exposed. It wasn’t the way or the angle he’d used to get inside her, it was the fact that he was going to come there, leave part of himself deep inside her even after this was over.
For now, he was hitting the perfect spot with every stroke, and each impact pushed her closer to the climax she could feel building deep in her core. They were so close that she felt the friction of his body rubbing against her clit, but the real pleasure was feeling him hit so hard, in just the right place. Her prediction came true – she came fast, and hard.
A cry tore its way out of her, an involuntary manifestation of sheer bliss. It was amazing what a difference the lack of a thin layer of latex made. As her pussy shrank around his hardness, the pure pleasure of his being bare radiated through her, making her climax that much more powerful. It came in waves, and she saw tiny stars when she squeezed her eyes shut, pinpricks of light against darkness that enhanced her other senses.
By the time the intensity faded, he was still going strong, still hitting her in just the right place. Each stroke sparked a burst of sensation, reminding her of what she’d just experienced – how good it’d been. Ghosts of that pleasure haunted her now, making her skin break out in goose bumps, doubling her heart rate when it should’ve been starting to slow.
He said her name and his lips brushed her neck, releasing a burst of breath that clung to her skin, hot and humid. She liked feeling that trace of him lingering on her body, liked the idea of reaping that feeling a hundred fold in a minute, when he came.
He was obviously on the edge. Every muscle in his body was taut, every stroke was deliberate. Her body was shrinking and pulsing around the hard length of his cock, and his words about ‘holding out’ echoed through her mind. That must be what he was doing. If this felt half as good for him as it had for her, he had to be restraining himself.
Wrapping her legs around his waist again, she held on tight, pulling him closer and farther in. When he swore, she knew it was working. The coarse lines and flat ridges of his scars slipped beneath her fingertips as she smoothed her hands over his back, gripping him hard.
This way, she could ride out his every movement, could feel every surge of urgency sweeping through him and driving his motions. It was the closest thing to mind-reading she’d ever experienced.
She used her own body to say what she was thinking without words. Clinging tight, she let her nails dig in, let her thighs flatten against the hard muscle of his sides and hips. His groin ground against her clit, and she could feel herself reaching for orgasm again without even meaning to.
He said her name again, and she had just enough breath in her lungs to reply this time. “Henry…”
This was every fantasy she’d entertained since the first moment she’d laid eyes on him and more. Bodies tangled together, hearts beating hard and at the same time, as close as two people could get. Nothing between them, literally or figuratively. At least, not right now.
She was infinitely grateful for the moment, regardless of recent circumstances and future worries. She had him now – all of him – and that was more fulfillment than she ever could’ve hoped for. This must be what uninhibited love felt like.
It was something she’d never experienced before, a drug that was new to her system. It flooded her body and mind, heightening not just her emotions, but her senses.
It felt so good she came again, suddenly, after just a few moments of build-up. It took her by surprise, and tore his name right off the tip of her tongue.
He said what she couldn’t. “Fuck, yeah…” There was a scraping note in his voice that resonated with her, struck a chord somewhere deep inside her core, which was growing tighter by the second, aching as he pounded into her.
They were coming at the same time, and those few moments were the hottest of her life. By the time it ended, she was breathless and the muscles in her thighs were cramping. She let her legs slide from around his waist, but he stayed on top of her, inside her.
And despite what they’d been through, she’d never been – never felt – better than she did with his still-hard cock inside her, where she was hot and wet and bound to him in a way that felt more real than his cuffs around her wrists ever had.
CHAPTER 26
“I’m so sorry mom,” Sasha said. “Things happened so fast, and have been so crazy that I just didn’t think to call you right away.”
“I about had a heart attack!” On the other end of the connection, Sasha’s mother sounded breathless. “You know me – I don’t watch a lot of TV. So this morning when I was at my watercolor club and Anna asked me if I’d seen the news… I had a terrible feeling as soon as I turned the TV on.
“And when I heard your name… The world stopped turning when the anchor said ‘Sasha Morrison’.”
“I didn’t even think about that. Things have been such a whirlwind ever since it happened. It’s only been a day and a half.” A whirlwind of Henry and bliss and fucking and Henry and…
And babying Wolf, who Henry had picked up from the vet that morning. He’d sustained a deep knife wound in his shoulder muscle, which would take time to heal. So far, he’d spent the day lying on the couch in Sasha’s living room with his head in her lap, harness-like bandages crisscrossing his back and chest. When she rubbed the soft fur between his ears, he thumped his tail against the couch cushion.
Henry had been left to sit in the recliner next to the couch, alone. Although Sasha felt a twinge of pity, neither of them was about to kick Wolf off the couch. If not for him, both Henry and Sasha might be dead. Henry had cooked Wolf an extra-rare steak for brunch after bringing him home.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Sasha’s mother said. “That’s the important thing.”
Her mother’s statement didn’t ease Sasha’s guilt. Of course she should’ve expected that the news story would make it outside Riley County, and she should’ve called her mother right away to let her know everything was all right. What was wrong with her?
The local news channels were covering little else besides Randy Levinson’s deranged antics, and some of Riley County’s residents were even protesting the prison. According to the last broadcast Sasha had seen, some brave – or maybe just foolhardy – picketers had gathered in downtown Cypress, near the municipal building and courthouse.
They thought the prison was endangering the entire population and wanted it gone. Even after what she’d been through, Sasha didn’t see the sense in that. The Riley Correctional Facility was the largest prison in the state. The inmates had to be kept somewhere, and there was a marked shortage of Alcatraz-like islands.
“Thanks, mom.”
“Now, I want to ask you something. I’d been planning to call and ask before any of this happened, but now that it has, it seems more important than ever.”
Sasha braced herself for the unexpected as curiosity overshadowed her other emotions. “What is it?”
“I’d like to come visit you. Spend a few days with you, if you have the time.”
“Of course I have the time. But … right now? With everything that’s going on in Riley County?”
“Yes. Actually, in light of what’s happened, I’m even more eager to visit. No matter how things turned out, Sasha, I could’ve lost you. You mean more to me than anyone else, and I want to see you for more than just an afternoon. Make some new memories instead of wallowing in the old, sad ones.”
>
Arguments leapt to the tip of Sasha’s tongue, but she couldn’t voice them. The part of her that wanted to suggest her mother wait until Randy Levinson was caught was superseded by the part of her that knew she’d have felt the same way, if she’d been in her mother’s shoes. She wasn’t about to push her away. Besides, arguing with her about this in front of Henry would be downright hypocritical.
“All right. I’ve been kicking myself for not coming to visit you more often anyway. When do you want to come down?”
“How about tomorrow?”
Sasha couldn’t argue, so she didn’t. “Call me when you leave, so I know what time to expect you. Faye insisted I take a few days off work – I won’t be going back until the day after tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you in the morning, then. I love you, Sasha.”
“Love you too, mom. See you soon.”
Henry locked Sasha in eye contact before she’d even ended the call. “You’re leaving town again?”
This time, she could hear the tension in his voice. Last time, he’d been eager for her to escape the county, but she had no doubts that his plan now was to try to keep her as close as possible. “No. My mom is coming to visit here for a few days.”
He frowned. “You didn’t get your personality from her, did you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m having visions of you both charging into the woods in your bathing suits after Randy Levinson, and it’s terrifying.”
Sasha picked up a throw pillow from one end of the couch and slung it at him. “That’s not going to happen. The only person obsessed with catching him is you.”
By the time she’d woken up this morning, Henry had been in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and his phone in front of him on the table. He’d called his supervisor and talked him into letting him come back to work the day after tomorrow, which meant that unless Randy was caught before then, he’d be rejoining the search as a PERT officer.
A massive manhunt had been started the day of the shootout, and Henry was chomping at the bit to get in on it.
“Have I mentioned how asinine it is that you were stabbed and suffered a concussion, yet you’re only taking off the same amount of time from work I was given over a sprained wrist?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “As a matter of fact, yeah, you’ve mentioned it. One or ten times.”
She longed to throw another pillow at him, but couldn’t reach one without disturbing Wolf. She settled for shooting Henry a consider yourself lucky look.
“I’m glad your mom is visiting,” he said.
That made her do a double-take.
“You are?” Hadn’t he considered that it would cut into their sex agenda? Which right now consisted of doing it whenever they wanted. Which was often.
“Yeah. Having someone to entertain will keep you from getting into trouble. Especially if that someone is your mom. Unless, of course, she’s anything like you.”
“So basically you’re saying you think I need a babysitter, and my mom is the perfect person for the job?”
He didn’t say anything, didn’t look away.
“In that case,” she continued, “I’ll have you know she’s exactly like me.”
The sight of Henry’s stricken expression made Sasha break out into a grin.
“I hope you’re kidding.”
“Ha! I wish I wasn’t. A babysitter… If that’s not freaking insulting, I don’t know what is! I’m 30 years old.”
“Yeah, well I’ve gotten attached to you pretty quick. I want you to be around for 30 more years, at least.”
“Oh, I plan to be. You saw what I can do to a man with a kitchen utensil. I wouldn’t be too flippant with me if I were you.”
“I’m more interested in what you can do to a man with your bare hands. Or that mouth. Or—”
She leaned as far as she could, stretching her arm until it hurt, just so she could get ahold of the remaining throw pillow. Then she launched it into his face.
By the time she’d eased Wolf out of her lap and stood up, he’d flung it back at her. It hit her squarely in the chest, and if his smirk was any indication, he’d done it intentionally. “You aimed there on purpose, didn’t you?”
“It – they – were the biggest target.”
“That’s it. You’re going to pay for that.”
She attacked him mercilessly – with the pillow, not her chest, though he seemed to keep finding ways to end up in suspiciously close quarters with her cleavage. Eventually he tore the pillow from her grip, pinned her arms to her sides and pulled her down onto the recliner, pressing his face into the V-neck of her t-shirt.
She made a show of resisting, but that was only for the sake of her wounded pillow-fighting pride. It felt good to be so close to him. She could feel herself slipping into that state of being where what they were doing at the moment was the only real thing.
At any rate, he was much stronger and bigger than her, despite what he’d said about her ‘targets’. He pulled her farther and farther down, until she was on top of him, between his thighs. He was hard and she could feel his heart beating against hers, faster than the pillow fighting accounted for.
Heat rippled through her when he bit down on one of her nipples, through her t-shirt and bra. She moaned, and the rest of the world – even the danger it harbored – faded away.
* * * * *
The heat and humidity were brutal. Henry could feel sweat running everywhere, even down the crack of his ass, and his skin was already chafing beneath the weight of his bulletproof vest.
The day was perfect.
“Hey.” Grey elbowed Henry in the side. “Don’t step in any gopher holes this time. If you hurt yourself again, they’ll have to keep a special room for you at the hospital.”
Henry ignored Grey’s shit talking as he walked through the open field, tall grass bending beneath his boots, still damp with the morning dew. God, it felt good to be back on the search. Even the mosquitos buzzing around his head didn’t bother him much.
As bad as it sounded, part of him was relieved that Liam, Grey and the rest of PERT hadn’t tracked down Randy Levinson without him. After what had happened three days ago, the hunt was personal.
The image of Sasha being knocked to the forest floor flashed in Henry’s mind, heightening his senses and fueling his determination to find Randy Levinson and pay him back a thousand fold for every hurt he’d caused Sasha, or anyone. Although Sasha’s injury had been minor, the fact that he’d assaulted her demonstrated how little regard he had for human life and innocence … and how close he’d come to forcing Henry to walk away from bloodstained ground alone again.
And then there was the pregnant woman, the three officers, and the other civilians Randy Levinson had murdered in cold blood. Just the day before, investigators had discovered that the two bodies found in shallow forest graves had belonged to a young local couple. One of them – the male – was the son of another local man who’d gone missing. The general consensus was that he’d probably been killed too and the body just hadn’t been found yet.
Randy Levinson would be lucky to get a bullet between the eyes or the shoulder blades. If Henry got the chance, he’d make him suffer. There were ways to do that and still kill someone quick, and Henry didn’t owe anything to someone who lived only to impact the lives of others in the easiest, most cowardly way possible. Someone who only wanted to leave scars and call them a legacy, or revenge.
At least, he didn’t owe him anything other than justice. Everyone deserved that.
* * * * *
15 Years Ago
Randy choked on the kerosene fumes that’d settled deep in his lungs. It didn’t stop him from running, or hollering with the excitement that was surging through his veins, pounding and roaring in his ears. The smell of wood and shingle going up in flames made his eyes water, but it was the smell of freedom.
“I think I burnt my foot!” Troy stumbled to a halt behind him, feet slipping on the dewy grass. It
was the dead of night, almost morning. The orange light of their flaming home lit up the horizon right where the sun would rise in another hour or so.
“Big fat blister, right on my heel.” Troy had kicked off his shoe and was staring at his foot like he’d never seen one before. “Son of a bitch. Where’s mama?”
A loud crack echoed from inside the house, and sparks flew up in a swirling column, like dragon’s breath.
“Inside, I reckon,” was all Randy said.
“But…” Troy coughed and sputtered. “She can’t be inside! It’s…”
It was November, a cold night. Randy had dug the kerosene heater out of storage and set it up in the living room. Mama had forbidden him to light it until after his father was in bed for the night. She’d been afraid he’d fall on it and burn himself.
If it’d been up to her, she probably would’ve let them all freeze the whole winter through just to protect his drunk ass.
After their parents had gone to bed, Randy and Troy had run a trail of extra kerosene fuel through the house and knocked over the heater. The place had caught fire more quickly than they’d anticipated.
It was as if every weathered beam and curled wallpaper edge had been in on their plans. The walls of that house had seen enough and had leant themselves to the plan, silent co-conspirators in the destruction.
The blaze was an inferno now; no one was going to walk through that wall of fire. Still, Randy watched, more because he feared his father than because he hoped for his mother.
“Mama’s not comin’ out.” Troy’s voice was a smoke-roughened whine. “Don’t see how she could make it out, now. You reckon we’ve done something awful?”
The tremor in Troy’s voice made Randy feel stronger. He shook his head. “No. I reckon we’ve done what we could. Not our fault the fire caught so fast. Not our fault she didn’t wake up.”
“We coulda gotten her up – coulda let her in on the plan.” Troy was crying now.