by K. Webster
“We’ll figure it out,” he assures me. “I’ll give you a key and you can keep your things here. Whenever you can get away, I’ll have you. We just can’t jeopardize what we have for a few stolen moments.”
I sigh and stoke his hair. He rests his head against my breasts. The time seems to be ticking too quickly. “When can we have all the moments, Brandt?”
He lifts up and regards me with blazing green eyes. “On your birthday. I promise to give them all to you.”
Grinning, I nod. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He smirks and adjusts himself so that his hard cock slides against my lower stomach.
“I thought we were out of time,” I murmur as I slip my legs out from beneath him to hook around his waist.
He pushes against my wet opening with the thick head of his cock and then slowly eases into me causing my breath to hitch. “I suppose we can steal one more moment, kiddo.”
The End
I’ve lost my best friend. That motherfucking pedophile. And mentally, I’ve lost Kelsey, too. She’s no longer sad, thank God, but she’s closed off. Quiet and introspective. No longer my bubbly sweetheart.
I’m pissed.
The man I loved as a brother helped me raise my goddamned girl only to steal her away from me. It disgusts me. I feel duped and cheated and wronged.
But now that two months have passed since that fucked up day, I mostly feel alone. I only see my daughter in passing and I no can longer rely on my best friend for support.
Which is why I’m sitting at a bar, drinking brandy, and cursing how my life has turned out. Alone. All fucking alone.
“Sheriff,” the bartender says and nods toward the stage behind me. “It’s Karaoke Night. You going to get up there and sing?”
I grunt and flip him the bird. “Nope.”
He chuckles. “Suit yourself.”
A group of women pass behind me and I hear them whisper. I know it’s about me because I specifically hear Rick McMahon and sheriff and DILF—whatever the fuck that is—amongst their tittering.
I ignore them.
That’s all I do these days.
Ignore fucking everyone.
I’m just lifting my glass to my lips when the music starts playing. I recognize the song immediately. I Shot the Sheriff. Irritation bubbles in my chest and I swivel around to face the asshole who thinks this song choice is so fucking funny.
A wasted blonde belts the lyrics into the microphone. I’m momentarily distracted by her tits that are spilling out of her tight dress. My dick thickens in my jeans, reminding me I haven’t been laid in months. I slide off the stool and start stalking toward the stage. The pretty little thing wants to fuck with me…well, I’ll fuck with her right back. I’m about to give her one of my intimidating sheriff stare-downs that usually ends with a blow job when I get a good glimpse at her face.
Fucking hell.
With a growl of frustration, I reach up and grab her wrist. I jerk her off that stage and into my arms.
“Let go of me!” she shrieks and attempts to wriggle from my grasp.
Her friends squeal and a guy stands as if he’s gonna do something. He isn’t going to do shit.
“Sheriff McMahon,” I bark out, leveling him with a hard glare. “And this brat is seventeen. She’s in police custody now.”
Nobody argues as I drag the screeching banshee out of the bar she has no business being in. Once I get her outside, I grip both of her shoulders so I can stare into her fierce blue eyes.
“Ugh,” she gripes, her supple chest heaving with exertion. “You’re such a stooge, Sheriff.” My God, why do her tits have to be so goddamned big and falling out of her dress?
“And you’re a bad girl, Mandy,” I snap back. “You’re coming with me.”
When she spits at me, I’ll be damned if my stupid cock doesn’t get hard again.
I do not need this in my life right now.
And yet, here I am dragging her skinny, top-heavy, ass to my car…
“We have to stop running into each other like this,” I grumble dryly. “You breaking the law. Me hauling you away.”
She huffs from the passenger seat and I steal a glance at her. Mandy Halston is a thorn in my side. First, she corrupts my daughter and now she cuts into my time off. I was supposed to chill the fuck out and get laid. Not work for free as I deal with her shit. She’s like the gift that keeps on giving. And I want to return her.
“Am I going to be able to talk to your dad this time?” I question as I drive through the dark streets toward her massive home on the edge of town.
Her body stiffens. “No. He’s away on business.”
I clench my teeth. Her fucking dad is never around. I spoke to her mother last time, but that was a joke. The woman was a damn space cadet. Mandy mentioned her mother was addicted to prescription painkillers and that she was worthless to talk to. Five minutes in their spacious home with the woman staring at me in a daze, I quickly realized Mandy was right.
“You should really find better friends,” I grumble. “Those girls are a bad influence.”
At this, she scoffs and shoots me a scathing glare. “I thought I was the bad influence. You took away the best friend I had.”
Guilt bubbles up in my chest and I ignore her for the rest of the drive. I may feel bad about her not having Kelsey, but I don’t feel bad about protecting my daughter from people like her. When I finally pull into her driveway, I expect her to bolt out of the car like last time. Instead, she stares at the white Lexus in front of the house and frowns.
“Your dad home?” I question in a gruff tone.
She swallows and nods. “Yep.”
“I have to talk to him.”
Her head jerks my way and her bottom lip quivers. I’m fixated by the damn thing for a brief moment. Girls like her are just asking for trouble. She’s dressed like a skank and her makeup is done up way too dark for someone her age. A guy like me could almost confuse her for someone older. That thought irritates me; that men have been ogling her for God knows how long.
I climb out of the car and start stalking to the front door. When I turn to see if she’s following, I find her standing outside the car chewing nervously on her fingernail. Right now, despite the hair and makeup and slutty clothes, she looks every bit of seventeen.
“Come on,” I bark out.
She jumps and then makes her way over to me. What she does next surprises me.
“Please don’t tell on me,” she begs and grabs my hand. “Please.” Her bright blue eyes are shimmering with unshed tears. I wonder how many men this little act has worked on.
“You’re out of control,” I utter and attempt to tug my hand away.
“I’ll be a good girl,” she whispers, squeezing my hand harder. “Please don’t tell him.”
If I were a lesser man, I’d pull the vulnerable girl with the plump bottom lip into my arms and assure her everything would be okay. I would hold her and maybe forget that she was young. Take advantage of her neediness.
But I’m the goddamned sheriff.
And I am not Brandt.
“I’m sorry,” I grunt and this time successfully remove my hand from hers. “It’s time.”
I toss and turn all night, replaying the look on that asshole’s face. His features were cool but I saw a flicker of rage in his eyes. And not just the normal fatherly anger when your kid fucks up. Something different. Something that set my teeth on edge and my cop mind on overdrive. I didn’t like it.
It makes me want to call my daughter and have her come home so I can hold her close. She’d told me she was spending the night with her friend Alison. They’ve seemed to have grown closer now that Mandy is out of the picture. Kelsey avoids me and spends the night out most weekends now. As much as it stings to not have her around as much, I can’t help but feel triumphant that at least she’s not with Brandt.
I’m jolted away from those dark thoughts by someone beating on the front door. A quick look at the alarm clock tells me it’s a
fter one in the morning. I launch out of bed wearing only my black boxer briefs, but do manage to grab my police issued Glock before heading to the front door. When I peek through the window, I’m immediately concerned. I slam the gun down on the entryway table and fling the door open.
“Sheriff,” Mandy cries out and throws herself into my arms.
She’s shaking like a fucking leaf and wearing nothing but a silky nightie. I’m alarmed that she’s crying so hard.
“What’s wrong?” I demand, gathering her cheeks in my palms so I can look at her face. Her black makeup has been smeared down her cheeks, but I don’t miss the purple shiner on her eye. “What the fuck happened to you?”
Her tears streak down her face and she refuses to regard me with her pretty blue eyes. Instead, she shakes her head. “Nothing. I just… I just need… Can I stay here tonight?”
I usher her inside and lock the door but don’t let go. The poor girl is trembling so much I’m afraid she’ll collapse if I release her.
“How did you get here?” I ask, hoping my tone is softer. I stroke her messy hair to comfort her.
Her eyes are on my bare chest and I suppress a groan knowing that I should have answered the door in more than just my underwear. “I walked part of the way and then hitched a ride,” she whispers.
A growl rumbles inside my chest at her stupidity. “You hitchhiked? Are you fucking crazy?”
She pulls away and glares at me through her tears. There’s the fierce girl I know. “Screw you! I didn’t know your number and I didn’t want to bother Kelsey!” My gaze rakes over her appearance and I cringe. The fact that I can see her peaked nipples through the silk is a miracle she even made it here. Some monster could have taken advantage of her. She’s fucking lucky she made it here alive and intact.
“Okay,” I soothe. “Just tell me what happened. Who hit you?”
She bites on her pink lip and looks down at the floor again. “Nobody. I fell.”
Bullshit she fell.
“I don’t have time for games, Mandy. Tell me the truth.”
Her shaking fingers find the bottom of her nightie and she tugs at it nervously. It reveals more of her creamy pale flesh and it’s distracting as hell. I tear my gaze from her movements and grip her chin. Tilting her head up, I find her eyes and implore her to give me answers.
“You told him,” she accuses, her voice but a whisper. “You upset him.”
Ice freezes my veins. “Your fucking father did this to you?”
She once again tries to look away but I grip her jaw so she can’t move. “Yes.”
Red. Motherfucking red. My vision blurs with fury. I hate men who hurt women. I’ve seen enough of that domestic violence bullshit at my job to last a lifetime.
“That’s child abuse,” I growl.
Her blue eyes are blazing when she glares at me. “I’m not a child.”
We have a standoff, neither of us looking away. She may only be seventeen, but she’s rocking a body of a twenty-five-year-old and she is mouthier than most adult women I know.
“I’m going to arrest him.”
All fire is snuffed out of her eyes as fear replaces it. “P-Please don’t do that. He’ll just bail himself out and things will be worse for me.”
“Then why did you come here?” My brows pinch together in confusion.
“I just wanted to stay somewhere safe. I always felt safe when I’d spend the night here with Kelsey,” she admits and then her wide innocent eyes find mine. “Because of you.”
A protectiveness washes over me for this girl. She may be out doing bad girl things, but maybe it’s because she’d rather be anywhere other than home. I can’t say I blame her.
“You can stay here,” I assure her. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and you can wear something of Kelsey’s?”
“Thank you, Sheriff.” She beams at me through her tears and messy face.
“Call me Rick.”
After she leaves to shower, I root around in the cabinets until I locate some tea. My mother always made me hot tea when I was a kid and was upset. I hate the shit now, but I keep it around for Kelsey. Bad dreams, breakups with boys, normal teenage hormonal problems. The hot tea always seems to help.
I’m still in a daze watching the teabag steep in the hot water when I hear her pad into the kitchen. I turn and almost don’t recognize her without all her makeup. Her pretty blue eyes seem wider and more innocent, which only puts more emphasis on how wrong it is to see her with a black eye. The blonde tresses that are normally flat ironed straight have been twisted into a messy, wet bun on top of her head. That hairstyle makes her neck seem longer. I try not to fixate on the pale flesh wondering how easily she bruises there.
My gaze falls to a familiar camisole I’ve seen Kelsey wear a thousand times. But Mandy has the biggest fucking tits I’ve seen on a girl her age. The shirt she’s borrowed from my daughter barely contains the swells of her breasts.
“Is it okay that I wore this?” she asks, her voice unsure.
“Yes,” I bark out a little too harshly. “Of course.” I tear my gaze from her chest and note that she’s wearing a pair of grey shorts that belong to Kelsey. Mandy’s thighs are curvier and I’d bet my entire life savings that her ass fills out every inch of those shorts. My dick is coming to life in my boxers and I suddenly feel stupid that I didn’t change when I had the chance.
“Thank you so much for letting me come over.” She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me tight.
I’m horrified because now my dick is even harder with her perfect tits smashed against me. This girl, whom I’ve known for years, is now too close for comfort. I’m having trouble drawing a line here. She feels too good in my arms. Because I’m a greedy bastard, I take a moment to hug her back.
“Kelsey isn’t here so you can sleep in her bed tonight.” My voice is hoarse and it takes everything in me to gently peel her away from my body. “Why don’t you drink this tea and we’ll talk more in the morning?”
She nods and accepts the tea. I’m still staring at her, willing the confusing thoughts out of my head when I catch her staring at me. Not just at me but at the semi that I’m still sporting in my boxers. Disgust washes over me. I’m a sick fucker, no better than Brandt. I should be consoling this girl. Not lusting over her.
I clear my throat, demanding her attention, and am thankful when she meets my gaze. Despite her innocent look, her eyes flash with mischief. There’s the Mandy I know so well.
“Looking good, Sheriff.”
Thank God. Familiar territory.
“Yeah, yeah. Drink the tea and go to bed.”
A bloodcurdling scream jolts me from my sleep and I hauling ass toward Kelsey’s room. So many times she’s had nightmares and I’ve had to console her. It isn’t until I’m halfway in her dark room that I remember Kelsey isn’t home. It’s Mandy.
“Are you okay?” I murmur as I reach the bedside.
She’s sniffling and choking back a sob. “N-No. I dreamed… he was… I was scared…”
My instinct is to comfort her, but I don’t want to cross any lines. “What do you need?”
“I, uh,” she whispers. “Could you hold me?”
I freeze and ponder whether this is a good idea or not. When she starts sniffling again, I make a decision. The girl has been through hell. I’m not going to let her suffer. I lift the blankets and lie down beside her. She wiggles her ass toward me and I hiss when she brushes up against my dick.
Okay so maybe this was a terrible idea.
“I’m cold and scared,” she tells me. “Please hold me.”
“I don’t know if that’s a—”
She twists to face me and two, hot, bare tits press against my naked chest.
“What the fuck?” I growl.
“Don’t worry,” she murmurs. “I still have my panties on.”
I’m about to chastise her but then she slides her arm around me and presses her face to my hard, pectoral muscle. Her hot breath tickles me. For a br
ief, selfish moment, I’m glad I’ve never let myself go and continued to stay cut as shit. Mostly, it was because I was single and nobody wants to fuck a flabby guy. Right now, I’m glad because I don’t feel so old with this hot little thing pressed against me.
“You should put a shirt on,” I grumble. But I don’t press the matter too hard. Instead, I find myself stroking her still damp hair that’s long been since freed from her bun.
“I don’t want to.”
There are so many things I should do right now. Get out of this bed. Force her to dress. Go to the station and report her father so I can send her along her way. But apparently, tonight I’m a stupid motherfucker because I do nothing that I should. Tonight, I break the rules. I hold a nearly-naked seventeen-year-old girl in my arms while I imagine what it would be like to fuck her. I would never touch her past what I’m doing now, but I sure as hell can’t stop wondering if her pussy is tight. I sure as fuck can’t stop wondering what she’d look like with her tits bouncing as she rode my fat cock.
“Go to sleep, bad girl,” I murmur against her hair.
She wriggles against me and I’ll be damned if my cock doesn’t strain against my boxers. I’m trying to think of the most unsexy things ever when her small hand brushes against my dick. I hiss out a breath of air.
“Mandy,” I growl out my warning.
“What, Sheriff?” Her tone is so fucking innocent that I for a second believe it was an accident. But then she pushes her hand inside my boxers and grips my aching cock. I thrust against her hand before I even comprehend what’s happening.
“Fuck!” I snarl. “What are you doing?”
This girl has my dick in her hand. I’m a goddamned cop and old enough to be her father for crying out loud. I should be pushing her away. Running far the hell away from her. Yet I remain frozen in her grasp. She presses her lips against my chest and strokes me again. Pleasure zips up my spine and dizzies me. I can’t even remember the last time I came that wasn’t by my own hand.
“Please stop,” I grit through my teeth but still haven’t found the strength to push her away.