7. Detective Keehn McCoy, Port Wylde PD #2
This was the game we played. We'd hate fuck, fall into bed with each other, and then go our separate ways like we hadn't just found the other missing half to our whole.
She'd pretend she didn't want to give this up, and I'd pretend I was only here as a cop.
We put on our dismissive faces and walked away from the best thing in our lives, day after day, week after week, month after month, until finally, we'd grown into this.
Whatever the fuck this was.
"Come on my tongue, you fucking slut," I growled against her pussy, flicking that sensitive spot inside her that never failed to send her over the edge. "Give me what I want, what you can never deny me. Come for me, Lilly."
She came with a scream, one she muffled with the back of her hand at the last second.
Her other hand slapped against the wall, and her thighs shook around me as she came—hard—all over my fucking face.
She made a mess of me and herself, and I did my best to lap it all up, cleaning her like a cat cleans the cream bowl.
When she'd stopped shaking, I planted soft kisses against the inside of her thighs, marking her once more for my pleasure.
I didn't look up at her, because if I did, I knew what I'd find on her face, and I wasn't ready to be so easily dismissed just yet.
But it was inevitable. It always was with Lilly.
The woman was an unstoppable but predictable force, and just like the seasons, I knew when she'd change her mood like I knew there would be rain tomorrow.
I could feel it in my bones. She shoved me on my ass and stepped over me, not a word slipping from her mouth as she made her way out of the stall and over to the sinks, washing her hands like she hadn't just orgasmed on the bathroom toilet seat with a man between her legs while a party raged outside the doors.
Damn her and her ability to pretend this was nothing to her.
Damn Lilly St. James for taking up so much fucking space in my bleeding, traitorous heart.
"So isn't this where you demand I get out of your sight and never speak of this again?"
She met my eyes in the mirror, watching me rise to my feet and dust off the knees of my uniform pants.
"This is where I say 'fuck you' for doing that to me in the middle of a room full of people.
" Her eyes darted to the sink again and back up to mine.
"I told you we're over. Have been for a long time now. "
I snorted at her delusion. "Over? Someone who's over someone else doesn't put them on their knees to eat you out in a public bathroom stall. If you were over me, you wouldn't have let me put my fingers in that fucking hole of yours."
"Fucking bastard?—"
"Stubborn bitch ? —"
We snapped together like an overstretched rubber band, a tangle of arms and legs and tongues as I lifted the back of her dress while I gripped her hair and bent her backward, thankful for the flexibility she'd always possessed that came in handy now and again, and slid my tongue down her fucking throat.
My free hand slipped my hard cock out of my pants, and I lined up at her fucking still-soaked hole, sliding home with a grunt of pleasure.
She was everything I remembered and more. The feel of her gripping my cock was mind-blowing. She moaned, her hands gripping the edge of the sink as I fucked her, raw, pounding into her with such force I could feel the damn thing separating from the wall. But I didn't give two shits.
All I wanted was to come inside her, claim her, and mark her as mine once more.
"Fuck," I growled against her throat, feeling my balls tighten already. I wanted to drag this out; oh, how I longed to fuck her thoroughly, preferably on as many surfaces as possible, but I didn't have time for that. This wasn't meant to last; we both knew it.
So I let go.
My fucking soul left my damn body and entered hers, demanding release as my spine stiffened and I filled her with hot ropes of my seed, relishing the way she backed up against me and whined as it dripped out around my cock.
I sighed, pulling out of her too soon for my taste, preparing myself for what I had to do next.
I had to walk away.
Later that night, as I walked down the abandoned, eerily quiet streets of the dregs of Port Wylde, I stumbled across a crumpled notice on letterhead I immediately recognized.
Port Wylde Asylum was printed neatly across the top, the words Hitman's Guild below that in a polite scrawl that was hard to imagine came from a former street rat. The body of the message, though, was what caught my eye.
It was a notice, a set of rules for the Guild, with a note at the bottom for the person who'd dropped it or perhaps abandoned it in irritation.
New Rules of the Asylum
Jobs are on a first-come, first-serve basis
No jobs that have not been cleared by the boss
Don't ask, don't tell—clients are anonymous
NO OUTSIDERS ALLOWED
Interact with other guild members at your own risk
Her beautiful, flowing handwriting flowed easily at the bottom, reminding me of the way she used to draw on my bare back after sex with the tips of her nails. I shivered, but not from the cold.
Something had happened at that fucking place, and it had spooked her enough to warrant new rules for the lawless society of criminals.
I tucked the flyer in my pocket, kicked a nearby rock, and prepared to leap headfirst into the fire and face my beautiful foe head-on.
I'd get to the bottom of this shit, whether she liked it or not.
I'd been protecting her all this time, after all.
It wasn't about to stop me from figuring out what crime I needed to cover up for her this time.
I'm coming for you, Lilly St. Clair. And you're going to welcome me with open arms.
You just don't know it yet.