Sheriff’s Secret

by Webster, K

  “Sheriff Bell?” She grins at me. “Michelle Kincaid. Everyone calls me Shelly.”

  I take her offered hand and give it a shake. “Call me Jax. You haven’t been waiting long, have you, Shelly?”

  Her eyes roam my features in a pleased way. “Just got here.”

  “Let’s get you inside and out of the cold before you catch your death,” I say, reaching for the door to Comida’s. “Thanks for indulging my mother.”

  Shelly laughs as we enter the restaurant. “Patricia is a doll. Lovely lady.”

  I steer her over to a secluded booth and sit opposite of her. Greedily, I inspect her features, comparing them to her villainous brother. It’s obvious they’re related. She’s the softer, feminine version of him.

  “Oh,” I grunt out, offering her the flower. “Picked this up across the street at Granger’s.”

  Her eyes brighten as she takes the flower. “That’s awfully sweet of you.”

  As she admires the craftsmanship of the flower, I try to convince myself I’d be better off dating someone like Shelly. Someone Mom approves of. Someone female. I bet we’d make gorgeous kids.

  Too bad I’m gay.

  And, knowing who her brother is, there’s no way in hell I’ll sleep with her in one of those sad attempts to convince myself I’m bisexual. Not only is that cruel to the poor woman, her supervillain brother would probably castrate me.

  After we place our order, she begins chatting my ear off, telling me about Red Hake Bed & Breakfast she and Dante started. How they take care of their little brother, Callan. Her time spent in New York. I listen and nod where appropriate, but my gaze keeps drifting to the windows as people walk by. It isn’t until the waiter brings the check, I realize I’ve let this woman talk the entire time and haven’t uttered more than a few grunts.

  Dropping a few bills down on the table, I offer her a warm smile. “Thanks for having dinner with me. It’s been great getting to know you.”

  “Which is why,” she says, her smile widening, “the next dinner, you’ll do the talking so I can learn more about you.”

  I inwardly cringe at having to go on another date, but I force a nod. “Sure, Shelly. Give me your number and I’ll call to set it up.”

  “I’ve heard that line a time or two before,” she teases. “I’ll text you and set it up. Trust me, women are better at this sort of thing.”

  I rattle off my digits and she texts me with a bunch of smiley emojis. She’s certainly the nicer of the Kincaid siblings, that’s for damn sure. Once we’re bundled up, I escort her back outside.

  “We’ll do it again soon, Jax,” she promises, standing on her toes to brush a kiss on my cheek. “I have to run because I have an early morning with one of the contractors, Hans Lopez.”

  Coincidentally, Hans’s older brother, Fernando, owns Comida’s. Everyone knows everyone in Brigs Ferry Bay. I almost mention it to her, but she’s already hurrying off to a white Lexus and then zooms away. As soon as she’s gone, I feel like I can breathe. And, like a heat seeking missile, I walk back across the street. I pass by Granger’s and then Belle’s Boutique, coming to stand at the corner in front of Blur & Focus.

  The place, on a Wednesday night, is busy as hell.

  Pride surges through me knowing Kian did what he set out to do. Let the world know exactly how spectacular he was. And, clearly, they adore him for it.

  After the light signals I can cross, I trot across the road toward the glass doors. I don’t even make it to the steps before the door flings open and a familiar body flings itself at me.

  “Rescue me, officer!”

  I try to peel Cato’s already tipsy ass off my body, but he’s clinging like a koala bear. Playfully, he bites at my neck. With a quick smack to his leather-clad ass, I extract him from me. He wobbles slightly, grinning like an idiot.

  “A little early to be wasted,” I chide. “Who are you running from anyway?”

  He shivers against the cold. “Some big bearded dude. Smells like eggs. You came just in time. Pretend you’re my boyfriend.”

  “You can handle yourself, brat,” I mutter, grabbing his shoulders and guiding him back toward the building. “What have I told you about running around without a coat?”

  He resists my manhandling, but I manage to get him inside without too much effort. “Coats seriously hide everything I have to offer. How the hell am I supposed to find me a daddy if he can’t see what a delicious butt I have?”

  I roll my eyes, trying not to tense at the fact I’m actually inside Kian’s club. I’ve been on the wine side a couple of times, but this is the first time I’ve been to the club side. The very gay club side. Everyone knows Cato is my best friend, so it’s not like anyone will automatically assume my sexuality just from this visit. Still, it puts me on edge.

  Cato dances in front of me, wiggling his tight butt, capturing the gaze of several patrons. This guy has no problems getting laid. I’m jealous as fuck that I can’t be free like him, going after what I want, rather than accepting what’s expected of me.

  The date with Shelly was pleasant.

  A dinner between friends.

  The only spark between us was the fact she had the same intense eyes as her ridiculously hot brother.

  “They’re over here,” Cato exclaims over the loud music, grabbing my hand. “Come on, Jaxxy.”

  He drags me over to the bar where Dante is seated, his body angled toward Kian. As soon as I see the way he wolfishly grins at Kian in a way that promises hot, sweaty sex later, I see red and lose my fucking mind.

  “Kian,” I bark out, making him squeak and nearly fall off his stool.

  Kian swivels around to face me, his cheeks red and his eyes wide. “You scared the shit out of me, Jax. Jesus.”

  I want to grab him by his slender shoulders and pluck him off that barstool, drawing him into my arms. But, since I lost that right a long time ago, I grit my teeth, ignoring the bastard beside him.

  “How was your date with my sister?” Dante asks, an evil grin on his face.

  Kian’s brows furrow as he darts his gaze between us. “You’re dating Dante’s sister?”

  “It was just dinner,” I grind out, needing Kian to know there was no chemistry between her and me. Nothing could ever compare to what he and I had.

  “Does my sister know you blew out of dinner to come to a gay dance club?” Dante taunts, his hazel eyes burning with animosity.

  “Does your sister know you’re an asshole?” I bite back.

  Kian gasps and Cato laughs.

  “Come on, Ki,” Cato says, dragging his friend off the stool. “Let the wolves tear each other’s throats out while we get our groove on. We’ll come collect the winner later.”

  They scamper off and all I can do is stare after them, pissed that I already fucked this up. It’s because of him. Dante fucking Kincaid. Had he not arrived in our town, maybe I could have eased back into something with Kian. Now, I feel like I have to compete with this motherfucker.

  “Sit, Sheriff,” Dante orders, patting the stool that’s practically between his spread thighs.

  Knowing Kian was just sitting there, nearly wedged between this man’s legs, has me wanting to punch someone. But Dante wants to watch me squirm. Fuck him. I won’t be intimidated by a fucking New Yorker.

  Sliding onto the stool, I face toward the bar, ignoring the burning intensity that’s searing into my profile. I motion for the bartender, a guy I went to school with named Keith Bowden, who normally tends bar at Focus, but seems to be filling in at Blur tonight. Before I can place an order, Dante leans toward the man, shouting out an order.

  “More of those shots from earlier,” Dante tells Keith. “My…friend…has to catch up.”

  Keith raises his eyebrows at me, clearly surprised at Dante’s choice of words and the fact I’m in a gay bar, before walking off. The last thing I need is people in this town talking about what they think they know. Not that Keith is known for gossip, but it still pisses me off. Whipping my head to
the side, I glower at Dante.

  “We’re not friends,” I growl. “And we’re sure as fuck not whatever you were insinuating.”

  His full lips kick up on one side as he lazily studies me. Two assholes can play this game. While he drinks in his fill, I roam my stare over his too-perfect face. One of his villainous brows is quirked in an amused way. Dark brown hair is sculpted more casually than earlier. His slight scruff has been shaved off. With the club lighting, his lips almost seem red. Like he’s been drinking blood. Fucking vampire wannabe. Hell, he’s even looking the part in a black button-down dress shirt that’s practically glued to all his muscles. The buttons at the top are left undone, drawing the eye to his chest where you can’t help but want to unfasten the rest to see what exactly he’s hiding beneath the fabric. When my gaze falls to his lap—where he’s sporting an obviously big dick bulge—I suck in a sharp breath, jerking my stare back to his.

  Gone is the amusement.

  Now he glares at me. Like I’m something to be consumed. As though he’ll test out whether or not his teeth will cut into my skin and draw blood. Just the thought of his lips on my neck has heat flooding straight to my damn dick.

  Unbelievable.

  Shot glasses clank onto the bar top, saving me from admiring this beautiful douchebag a second longer. I pick up the first of two in front of me and knock it back. By the time I finish the second one, Dante’s done the same and ordering more. As soon as the liquor settles in my gut, my muscles relax. It makes me realize how on edge I’ve been the entire day. I sure as hell needed a drink. Maybe getting shitfaced will make me feel better about this terrible day.

  We blow through another couple of rounds, neither of us speaking. I’m sure as hell aware of the heat that seems to burn from him into my side. When he runs a finger down my spine, I sit up straight, shooting him a nasty glare.

  “Don’t touch me,” I hiss, hating that my dick begs for quite the opposite.

  “You must be tired of lying to yourself all the time, Sheriff. So fucking tired.”

  “You don’t know shit about me.” I angle my body away from him, searching the crowd for Kian and Cato. Sure enough, they’re in the middle of the dance floor, grinding on each other, drawing a crowd.

  “I know you’re a closet gay.” His hot breath tickles my ear as he leans in behind me. “Obsessed with that little cutie on the dance floor.”

  Hearing him refer to Kian as a cutie pisses me off. “Fuck off, Kincaid.”

  “We could fuck off together.” His finger once again teases down my spine. “I could mellow that attitude for you.”

  Jerking away from his touch, I damn near topple off the stool. The room spins for a moment, reminding me of why I don’t get drunk. I make stupid ass decisions.

  “Stay the hell away from me,” I throw back at him, charging away from the bar toward the restrooms.

  I push inside and head straight for the sink. After splashing cold water on my face, I dry it and take a hard look at my reflection.

  What am I doing here?

  I came to see Kian and yet I’m verbally sparring with my new enemy.

  I’m fucking everything up.

  Dante

  He’s gone for ten minutes before I decide to go after him. I’ve never seen a guy so twisted up about what he wants in all my life. Who the hell cares if he’s gay? He seems to think the world will fucking end if people find out. Someone needs to tell him to man the fuck up.

  Apparently, vodka has nominated me as the man to tell him.

  I storm into the bathroom, ready to give him a piece of my mind, when I stop dead in my tracks. His features are no longer angry. Instead, he looks so fucking lost. A scared, confused boy, unsure what to do or where to go.

  I may not know how to handle alpha assholes.

  But boys are my specialty.

  “Into the stall,” I bark out, my voice commanding and unwavering. “Now, boy.”

  His entire body stiffens as he jerks his head my way, brown eyes round with shock. I don’t give his drunk ass time to react. Walking over to him, I grab him by the belt and draw him to me so our faces are inches apart.

  “Denial is a mean bitch,” I rumble. “Who are you if you’re hiding the most important part of yourself?”

  Dark lashes blink at me. I know he can’t be but a few years younger than me, but right now, he’s inexperienced and out of his element. Using this to my advantage, I tug on his belt, drawing him with me into the handicapped stall. I shove the door closed and flip the lock.

  “W-What are you doing?” he rasps out, his greedy eyes unable to stay away from my lips.

  “Giving you what you desperately need.”

  He frowns, his chest heaving. “What’s that?”

  “Freedom to be yourself. No judgment.” My hips pin against his, trapping him between me and the wall, and I delight in the groan that escapes him when our hard dicks press together through our clothes. “I may not be your friend or know you, but I know what you need.”

  His lids fall closed as he leans his head against the wall. “Don’t do this to me.”

  “Do what, Sheriff?” I rumble, brushing my lips along the column of his throat. “Suck your dick so hard you pass out?”

  “Fuck,” he mutters, his hips rotating, chasing the friction of my dick rubbing against his.

  “Beg for it, boy.” I lick his salty neck and then nip the warm flesh. “Tell me what you need.”

  His head drops forward, his plump lips parted with desire. “I need not to feel so alone.”

  For a moment, I’m shocked still. I expected anything from the grouchy sheriff aside from pure, unfiltered vulnerability. I never expected truth.

  I must be drunk because rather than dropping to my knees, my lips crash to his, eager to taste this unexpected sweetness from the salty man. And, fuck, is he sweet. The moment my tongue lashes against his, we both groan. His greedy palms grab my ass, clutching and drawing me closer. I grip his masculine jaw, dictating how the entire kiss goes.

  At first, he’s compliant. I’m used to taking charge in the bedroom. It’s why I’m attracted to smaller men. Soft men. I like feeling like the protector. That I can provide for all their needs, both inside and out of the bedroom. It’s not to say I haven’t been with men like myself, because when you’re desperate for a hookup, you’ll take what you can get. I’ve just never been with one so rugged and fucking growly.

  “We have to stop,” he whispers, turning his head to break our kiss. His cheeks are bright red. From being turned on or ashamed, I’m unsure.

  “You’re in charge, Sheriff.” I suck on his neck until he hisses. “Lay down the law like you mean it.”

  Fiery brown eyes snap to mine. “Dante…”

  “Yes?” I croon as I grip his dick through his jeans. “Have something to say?”

  Rather than telling me to stop, he grabs hold of my shirt and then guides me down. I flash him a devilish smirk before dropping to one knee. When I look up at him, he curses, but his pupils are dilated to the max, desperate for what I’m offering. Without preamble, I unbuckle his belt and then unfasten his jeans.

  “Not too late to say no,” I tease as I draw his jeans down his thighs. “One word and I’m out of here.”

  His expression is murderous as he grips my hair. “Asshole.”

  “Not the word I was expecting,” I taunt before running my tongue over his thick, throbbing shaft through his black boxers. “Though if you’d like my tongue there, you’ll need to be a little more specific.”

  “Stop talking,” he growls. “Put my dick in your mouth and shut up.”

  Bossy bastard.

  I nip at his cock, loving the hiss that escapes him, before yanking his boxers down. His heavy cock bobs out, already leaking with pre-cum. I wrap my hand around his dick, impressed with the monster he’s packing. All it takes is a tease of the tip of my tongue in a quick circle around his crown for him to go into alpha mode.

  “Suck it.” Both hands grip my hair as
he glowers down at me with blazing heat. “I want to fuck your throat.”

  I laugh at his boldness before gifting the boy what he wants. His moan is empowering as I expertly take him deep into my throat. Sure, I’m a dominating bastard in the bedroom, but I know how to please my lovers. Every guy likes his dick sucked.

  “Fuck,” he snarls. “You’re too fucking good at this.”

  Gripping the backs of his hairy thighs, I force more of him into my throat, swallowing as I do. This sends him over the edge and he shamelessly fucks my throat like it’s a tight, twinkie bottom. He’s huge and long as fuck, but I devour every inch of him, dead set on seeing the mean-ass sheriff lose his mind. It doesn’t take long before he’s letting out a garbled cry that signals the explosion of his release. Salty cum jets down my throat in an abrupt rush. After each jolt of his dick, I swallow, making sure I take down every drop. Once he’s wrung dry, I slip off him, admiring his red, wet, and dripping cock.

  I make the mistake of looking up at him. With his eyes closed and his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing as he fights to catch his breath, I’ve never seen a man so beautifully wrecked. Gently, like I take care of all my lovers, I tuck his cock back into his boxers and draw his jeans back up his legs into place. As I zip him up and fasten his belt, I watch him closely.

  Regret.

  Relief.

  Sadness.

  Excitement.

  His expressive face flits through a myriad of emotions. Sucking his dick was probably stupid on my part, but I just wanted to bring this guy down a few pegs. Take the proverbial stick out of his ass. Make him realize that hiding his gay side was pointless when he could have this.

  “I, uh,” he murmurs, unable to look at me. “Thanks, uh, for that.”

  Voices resound outside, causing him to jolt as though he’s been struck by lightning. He flies out of the stall and straight to the sink like his ass is on fire. I linger inside the stall, watching as Cato bounces into the bathroom and leaps onto Jax’s back.

  “Take me for a ride,” Cato hoots. “To the dance floor!”