Chapter 20
Juliette
They were definitely up to something. The sly looks. The lingering glances. And Grammy—well, she was being particularly sweet. Suspiciously so.
She must’ve rushed out this morning; her silver-streaked hair was scraped into a no-nonsense bun instead of its usual soft curls. The dark grey twisted at the back only made the white wisps framing her face stand out more.
Not that it stopped her from wearing her signature deep red lipstick. Grammy didn’t believe in being caught off guard without war paint.
I was still mulling it all over when she suddenly stood up.
“Always lovely to visit you both, but my ride has arrived,” she said breezily, just as Kade rose to his feet beside her.
“I’ll see you downstairs,” he added, and I couldn’t tell if he was being a gentleman—or if they were about to hatch some secret plot in the hallway. Honestly, it was 50/50.
I narrowed my eyes. “How did you know Kade was over at mine?”
“Your ground floor neighbour told me his cruiser was here,” she said, as if that were perfectly normal and not deeply concerning.
How did she get here so fast?
She leaned in to kiss my cheek, then turned for the door before I could ask another thing.
Was it any wonder Kade ended up as the town’s sheriff?
His grandma was basically Hercule frikkin’ Poirot in a red lipstick and orthopaedic shoes.
I was still pondering their hushed whispers as I made the tea when I heard the front door close.
Kade stepped in with a backpack slung over his shoulder.
“I forgot the steaks in my cruiser,” he said, heading into my small kitchen.
He dropped his bag onto the table and took the meat over to the counter. I watched him move through the space, and decided—I liked this setup. The cozy, open-plan kitchen and living room felt… right.
I sipped my lukewarm tea, narrowing my eyes at him.
He was smiling. Humming.
I set my mug down slowly.
He was happy.
It was innocent.
That’s what I told myself.
I should have known better.
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Dinner was perfect. The night was still young, but I yawned as I stood up from the couch.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I need to change my clothes and wash up,” I said, catching the way his eyes lingered on my skirt.
“I’ll come and help,” he said, rising to his feet and taking my hand.
His fingers slid higher, curling around my wrist.
“I want to see what you’re wearing under that sexy, tight little skirt,” he murmured, reaching for the remote and switching off the TV.
“I thought you’d never ask, Officer Kade,” I said, leaning into him.
Every time he wore his uniform, it took me back to our first time—the way he’d taken control and gave me something I hadn’t even realised I craved.
Someone else taking over for a while… so I didn’t have to.
His lips brushed the side of my neck, just above the collar of my blouse.
“We’re going to try something a little different tonight,” he whispered, his hard chest pressing against mine. “It’s time you gave me that sweet ass of yours.”
I should’ve been shocked.
But all I could do was cling to his shirt.
Even as his lips swooped down to mine, I was thinking about the logistics of what he said. There was a definite size-to-hole ratio complication.
His hands cupped my ass as his tongue delved deeper.
It was slow. Sensual. Sexy.
Totally worth ruining my lingerie over.
“Trust me,” he whispered against my lips before leading me to the bedroom.
The strange thing was… I did trust him.
His hands moved with precision, slipping each button free, one by one, until my blouse fell open.
He peeled it off slowly, deliberately, like unwrapping something precious.
Then his hands were behind me, unfastening my bra, fingers grazing my spine before gliding down my arms as he dragged the straps off.
“Fucking beautiful,” he breathed, sharp and low.
He twirled me around.
“Bend over.”
His voice had changed—deeper, darker, edged with that dangerous command I couldn’t resist.
“Yes, Officer,” I murmured, turning and bending at the waist, planting my hands on the mattress.
His fingers hooked under the hem of my skirt. He paused, just a beat—then shoved it up over my ass and bunched the material at my hips.
Silence. Then his voice—lethal and low.
“Who are you wearing these for?”
He traced the lace edge of my thigh-high stockings, slow and featherlight, like a threat wrapped in silk.
I thought about making a joke. Something reckless.
Maybe mention the captain of the fire station and really test my luck. But my ass was already in enough danger.
“Only for you, Sheriff,” I whispered.
“Good girl… you almost make me want to take it easy on your ass tonight,” he said, gripping both cheeks in his hands and squeezing, rough and possessive.
“But that’s not what you need, is it? My sexy little whore.”
“No, sir,” I whispered, barely able to breathe it out.
I didn’t know how he did it—how a few filthy words could light me up inside, could hit a kink I hadn’t known existed before him.
The ache deepened, sharp and delicious.
I pressed my ass into his palms, desperate for more.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured, voice thick with promise. “I’ll always give you what you need, Juliette. Always.”
His fingers moved higher, and he found the edge of my thongs and tugged them down. I buried my face in the covers when I felt the wet material stuck to my pussy.
“Soaked again,” he murmured. “Don't move… or else.”
I smiled, remembering how the exact words had once intimidated me. The rustling of clothes being removed and his belt coming off made my heart beat faster. I inched my thighs apart in anticipation.
He moved around while I waited.
His bare flesh pressed against my thighs.
“Ever had a cock in your ass?” he asked, spreading me apart.
Something cold and wet landed on my exposed flesh.
“No, sir,” I whispered.
He didn't move or say anything. I almost looked back.
“A virgin ass,” he said, rubbing the hole in question.
I didn't know whether to be embarrassed or proud, since his tone held so much reverence. I should have known better.
“Just waiting for me to pop that anal cherry.”
He didn’t rush.
Didn’t push.
Just let his hands speak first—stroking the curve of my hips, the dip of my spine, tracing me like a man mapping sacred ground.
“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he murmured, his breath ghosting warm across my back. “I’ve got you.”
The words anchored me. I exhaled slowly, letting go of the tension knotted between my shoulders.
Then I felt it—one slick finger pressing at the tight ring of muscle he’d already spent time teasing with warm oil. He didn’t force it. He waited. Circled. Massaged. Until I pushed back ever so slightly.
“Yeah, just like that,” he whispered, his free hand sliding around to stroke my belly, grounding me with his touch. “That’s my good girl.”
The praise went straight to my core, a low throb building inside me as I surrendered inch by inch. His finger breached me slowly, just the tip, then paused.
“Still with me?” he asked.
I nodded against the pillow, hips twitching with need.
“Words, Juliette.”
“Yes, Officer,” I breathed.
He chuckled softly. “Atta girl.”
He eased deeper, still slow, still measured, watching every twitch of my body like a man utterly consumed. His other hand slipped lower, circling my clit with gentle, knowing pressure.
The combination made me gasp. My walls fluttered, overwhelmed by the intimacy, the vulnerability—and the pleasure.
“I want you to feel everything,” he rasped, curling his finger just slightly inside me. “No rushing. No pain. Just us. Just trust.”
And God help me… I wanted it all.