My head fell back to rest on his shoulder, and my pussy clenched in need when he ran the beard that’d began all of this down the back of my neck.
His hands fisted in my hair as he pushed me forward.
My feet weren’t touching the ground, so all I had to settle myself was Tai’s hand around my waist, and my hands on his knees.
My thighs started to protest as I clenched them in an effort to hold still. They began to burn as they contracted even more tightly to grip the outside of his thighs as he thrust himself inside of me hard and deep.
A hoarse scream left my body at the feel of him filling me up so completely.
“Fuck,” I whispered. “Oh, fuck.”
The position I was in was awkward – for me.
I couldn’t control a single thing as Tai continued to pound into me, hard and fast. His arm around my waist was the only anchor I had as he pounded inside of me.
My fingernails dug into his forearm, and it was all I could do to hold on and let him have me the way he wanted me.
It felt sublime.
I could feel the cage of his muscled arms flex as he moved me how he wanted me. His abs flexed and his arms constricted with his movements.
I’d never felt anything like this in any of our sexual encounters before.
Just as quickly as it began, it was over. I now totally got the appeal of ‘hard and fast.
Tai pulled out of me and groaned with a curse as he quickly moved his hand to the crown of his cock to catch the release that was now jetting out of it.
His large palm cupped the head of his cock against the top of my pubic bone, and the entire time I could feel the pulsing tip against my clit.
It was when he pulled his hand away from his cock and smoothed his release into the skin of my belly that I started to come.
I whimpered and arched, grinding the ridge of his cock furiously into my clit as my orgasm raced through me
He held still, letting me use him.
“Damn, I wish I could have watched your face,” he said as he stoked my back while I came down from my orgasm.
I grunted out a winded chuckle in reply.
“We need a mirror. We’re doing that again, and next time, it’ll be in front of a damn mirror,” he declared.
I hummed my approval against the side of his neck and he then pressed a soft kiss over my spinal cord.
“Want to go get breakfast?” He asked.
I looked at the time.
5:05 A.M.
“Do you have time?” I asked.
I knew he had to be at the KPD training facility at seven, and if it was me who was going to be running an obstacle course, I wasn’t sure I’d want to a big breakfast before I went.
“I’m not going.”
I blinked then quickly maneuvered myself to face him.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, pressing my belly to his.
I could feel the wetness between us, but he didn’t seem to care.
So I didn’t either.
“Just what I said,” he replied tersely, his eyes snapping with fire. “I’m not going.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“How about you check the attitude,” I said. “I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
He swallowed and sighed, looking down as he did.
“You have to go. He wouldn’t want you not to go just because he can’t. Give him the satisfaction of knowing you’ll be there,” I said softly.
His shoulders stiffened, and he looked up at me.
“You’re good for me, you know that?” He asked.
I smiled.
“You’re good for me, too.”
I got up and smacked him on the knee.
“Now, get going or you’ll be late.”
Chapter 21
My give-a-fuck is all fucked up.
-Tai to Jack
Tai
I can’t find his ring.
That statement echoed in my head, over and over again, bouncing this way and that.
It’d been two days since Aaron’s horrific accident. Two long days of realizing his condition was so grave, we weren’t sure if he was gonna make it.
So far, though, he was fighting.
“I can’t fucking believe it,” PD said, staring at Fatbaby’s now empty locker. “I still feel like he’s going to walk through that door and start moaning about his wife.”
“Yesterday was terrible,” Bowe said. “As I was running that course, I kept thinking about how Fatbaby and I would always finish within a couple seconds of each other.”
They did.
Fatbaby was a fast motherfucker, and it was rare that he ever finished the course in anything but first place.
Bowe was fast, too. But that’s expected when one had long legs like he did.
Yesterday had been beyond bad.
In fact, it was on the verge of being an epic failure on our part. Not a one of us finished first.
We’d finished, but judging by the times we’d each logged, it was clearly evident that we should’ve taken Luke up on his offer to postpone.
Luke looked at us, giving us all a once over.
Each of us had dark circles under our eyes, the worry for our friend and colleague etched plainly in all of our exhausted, grim-faced expressions.
“Y’all passed,” Luke said.
I didn’t say a word, and neither did any of the men at my side.
PD, Bowe, Drew and I were all standing shoulder-to-shoulder as we leaned against the brick wall of the firehouse.
It was no surprise that we passed.
None of us had been able to give a hundred percent, though.
“So what does that mean?” Bowe finally asked, trying to act somewhat interested.
“It means,” Luke said. “That as soon as we can, we’ll get y’all enrolled in the police academy’s online program. Once you pass the coursework, then we’ll get you the on-site training hours you’ll need to complete during y’all’s days off. When that’s done, we can get you sworn in, and you can start.”
“How long does all of that usually take?” I asked.
I don’t know if my heart was in it at the moment, but I needed to ask the questions. I needed to at least act like I was interested.
“Couple months, three, tops,” he said.
“Hmm,” I said.
Luke was speaking, but none of us were really taking in what he was saying
“Let’s talk about this next week. After...” he hesitated. “Once we have a better idea of Fatbaby’s condition.”
We all nodded, and he shook each of our hands, one-by-one, before he left.
I can’t find his ring.
I looked at my hand, wondering if the boys would do the same thing for Mia if something like this had happened to me, and I knew what I had to do.
Not that we were married yet, but we were heading in that direction.
I couldn’t see myself without her, and that was marriage. and with a woman like Mia, marriage was the next logical step.
“Boys,” I said. “Let’s go find that ring.”
***
Ninety minutes later, four fire fighters and about fifteen civilian passers-by were all down on their hands and knees looking for the ring that we knew Fatbaby wore on every shift, even though he knew it was a huge safety hazard.
“Sir,” a reporter asked. “Would you mind telling us what you’re doing?”
I looked over at the reporter I’d seen after yesterday’s accident and sighed.
She was the same one that was writing all the articles about us and publishing them without our consent.
Sitting up on my haunches from where I’d been digging in the tall grass, I explained.
“Yesterday, a fellow firefighter, Aaron Sims, was struck by a vehicle here at this intersection.” I pointed to the road. “He was thrown in this direction, and we’re looking for a ring that might, or might not have, fallen off somewhere in this location.”
“How about
a metal detector?” A man called from the crowd.
I looked over at him.
“Actually,” I said. “That would be great. Do you have one?”
The man nodded vigorously. “I do. In my trunk.”
I waved him over.
He hurried back to his vehicle that’d been parked in the McDonald’s parking lot across the street and was back moments later as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Would appreciate it if you just scanned the entire area,” I said.
With swift, methodical movements, the man did what I asked.
And we found the ring less than ten minutes later.
“This it?” The man cried out.
I looked over at the ring, and a wide smile split my face.
“That sure as hell is,” I said, offering my hand. “Thank you.”
The man took my hand and then placed the ring in my palm before slapping me hard on the back.
“You’re welcome, man,” he said. “You’re welcome.”
***
“Did you think more on what I told you?” A-shift FAO, Ton Jackson, asked.
I thought back to what he’d told me that day.
“Fatbaby told me to tell you something,” Ton said.
I blinked. “Me?”
He nodded.
“He said something about his wife and that she was responsible for everything,” Ton explained.
My brows furrowed.
“We already knew that,” I said. “He was the one who told us.”
Ton nodded.
“I know that. I was just wondering…why would he say that when we already knew? Why wouldn’t he say something else? Possibly identify the car that hit him in some way?” He asked.
“I did. But I haven’t been able to come up with any other reason,” I said. “He’d already told us all of that. Maybe he was just saying sorry?”
Ton frowned.
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe.”
I slapped Ton on the shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, though. I don’t think I ever said that.”
Ton’s lips lifted up in a small smile.
“Wish I didn’t have to tell you that at all, man.”
Me neither.
My hand tightened on the ring in the palm of my hand.
Fatbaby’s ring.
The same ring that’d been the reason for so many fights between him and his wife.
It was a big, bulky thing, and I wondered how Fatbaby had worn it throughout so many of the fires and calls we went on.
It seemed almost too big.
But I’d take it to his wife because it seemed so important to her.
And I wouldn’t yell at her or call her a bitch.
I’d be respectful.
I repeated this mantra to myself, over and over again, as I drove to their place.
The usual spot where Fatbaby’s Ford was parked, sat empty, and the garage was partially open.
Knowing that the front door wasn’t used, I slipped under the partially open garage door and came to a sudden, shocked halt.
There were two cars in the garage.
One was his wife’s. It was fine, it looked exactly like it always looked.
What wasn’t normal, however, was the old Impala that Fatbaby had bought to restore.
It was…broken.
Jagged metal was crunched in on one corner of the front bumper. Scrapes and dents dotted the sides.
And suddenly, it all made a sick, horrible sense.
Witnesses say it was a rusted up piece of crap. Something older and boxy. Massive. Said the car took the truck out with barely any warning, ran it into the side of that building, and then fled the scene.
Swallowing thickly, I backed out of the garage and then started walking to my truck.
I’d left my phone in the seat.
I’d just gotten to the driver’s side door when I heard the garage door start to go up.
I reached into the driver’s side window, grabbed my phone, and dialed 9-1-1 into the phone before the door reached its max height.
“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” Ellen, the dispatcher that worked on C-shift, asked.
“This is firefighter Taima Stoker. I’m at 4423 FM 2299 at firefighter Aaron Sim’s place. The car that was used during the hit and run that almost killed Aaron is in the garage,” I said urgently.
I hadn’t carried my gun on me today.
Normally I did, but today I’d gotten off shift, where I wasn’t allowed to carry it. I’d come straight here, and hadn’t even stopped by my place on the way home.
Which was why I was well and truly fucked when I looked up and saw Fatbaby’s psychotic wife staring down the barrel of a gun aimed directly at me.
My hands went up into the air as I stared at her.
My phone had dropped to the ground near my feet, and I hoped that they’d heard what I’d said about Lynn Sims.
“Why’d you come here?” She asked.
I looked up and down the street, half hoping that someone would step out and see what was going on, and the other half hoping that they didn’t come out just because I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.
I swallowed.
“Found Aaron’s ring,” I said.
I made sure to call him by his real name. She hated when we called him Fatbaby, mostly because she was a bitch and had refused to return the boots that had given Fatbaby his nickname.
So as not to incite her, I chose not to use the name we all knew and loved him by.
“You did not,” she hissed.
I started to reach down, but she fired a warning shot…at my truck.
It hit my baby with a ping and the back right wheel instantly sank to the ground.
I closed my eyes and put my hand back up.
She wasn’t just psychotic; she was also certifiably insane.
A dangerous combination that explained the fucked up mess that was Fatbaby’s wife, Lynn Sims
“Aaron’s ring isn’t in your possession. There’s no way you could’ve found it out there,” she hissed.
I narrowed my eyes.
“It’s in my pocket,” I said with a certainty.
She must’ve read it in my eyes or the posture of my body, because she aimed the rifle once again.
At my head.
I started to get sick to my stomach.
Not because death was staring at me but because of what my death would do to the people that I loved.
I just hoped that when she shot me, I didn’t have to live the rest of my life on a freakin’ ventilator or something, paralyzed from the waist down.
That’d be the pits.
Never being able to enjoy Mia’s warm…
“What are you doing?” Lynn screamed, spittle flying out of her mouth in her haste to get the words out.
I blinked, coming back to myself and the situation I was in and pushing thoughts of Mia’s hot, tight pussy and how much it would suck if I couldn’t have it any more, out of my head.
I looked down and noticed I’d managed to back myself up behind the bed of the truck, a much better position than the one I started in with just the open windows of the cab between me and her.
“I thought you wanted me to come to you,” I said.
“I do,” she said stiffly.
I winced and started moving.
I never actually realized just how awkward it was to walk with your hands in the air.
It wasn’t that it was difficult…just weird.
I made my way up the front lawn, calculating what kind of damage the bullet in the AR-15 she was holding would do to me this close up.
It’d surely kill me.
I wouldn’t have to worry about being a vegetable.
“Go into the garage. Then into the kitchen,” she ordered, backing away from me.
I did as I was told, following in between the two cars that were parked there.
I tried not to look at the Impala.
I really did, but it was like a train wreck.
There was white paint covering the majority of the right side, and the entire front end was smashed in.
It was a wonder that the damn thing had been able to make it home. It didn’t look like it’d make it a fucking block.
“Move,” I was poked in the back with the gun.
Needless to say, I moved.
When I got into the house, my first thought was that she’d cleaned.
Lynn didn’t clean.
And then I saw all the boxes.
She was moving.
More like running, my subconscious said.
I linked my hands at the back of my neck, trying not to think about how they burned, and turned to face her.
“You thought you were so funny, bringing that ring here. I left that with him. He deserved to have it back after he’d given it to me with the news that he was divorcing me,” she sneered. “Where is it?”
I gritted my teeth.
“Left front pocket,” I said.
She smiled and moved forward, and I tried to hold the smile inside.
Just a little closer. Come on.
She froze when something loud banged outside and turned, making a big mistake in my favor.
I moved lightening quick, pushing the gun down and bringing my left elbow down on her right forearm.
She cried out in pain as the bones of her wrist snapped.
I caught the rifle before it could fall all the way to the floor and had it turned on her before she sank all the way to the ground while cradling her arm.
I didn’t have a single fuck to give as I kicked her down onto her face and proceeded to tie her arms behind her back with a piece of fabric that I’d yanked off the apron that was hanging next to the door.
She cried out in pain, but I chose to ignore that, too.
Searching her body and finding her clean, I kicked open the door that led to the garage and then hit the button that lifted the big door up, not at all surprised to find three, black-clad figures pointing their guns at me.
I set the gun down on the concrete floor of the garage and then raised my hands above my head once again.
“You okay?” One asked.
Nico.
I nodded. “I am.”
“That Lynn Sims?” Another asked.
I nodded again. “It is.”
He nodded and directed me out with hand signals.
Shock Advised (Kilgore Fire #1) Page 18