Chapter 1 #5
I tangle my hand in his hair, trying to twist and arch back enough to get my mouth to his when I lose control. I’m shaking in his hold, coming and moaning and kissing while he keeps moving over my prostate.
Coming with him buried deep inside me bent over the trunk of his patrol car is the most pleasurable thing I have ever experienced, bar none.
“I’m going to fill you up. You’re going to take all of me, babe.” There’s a flicker of lights in the distance, and he must see them too, because playtime is over and he’s railing me. Hard, deep, and fast. A man with a mission.
He’s pumping into me, steady, his rhythm never faltering as he seeks his pleasure.
Then I hear it, a moan on an exhaled breath, and I know he’s close to the edge.
He’s pushing into me, hot exhales over my sweat-chilled skin, and saying, “Let me love you, Lachie.” He moans. “Let me love you, only you. Only you.”
“I fucking love you, Pete.” It’s a whisper.
I’m not saying it to beg for relief in a blissed-out haze of pleasure this time.
I’m saying it because I mean it. He tumbles into ecstasy the second the words leave my mouth, and I quiver from the throb deep inside me.
He’s pulsing as he comes, as he shakes and cries out.
We stay like that, locked together, until the headlights get larger, and he pulls away.
Fuck, I want him back, I need him in my body.
There is a second of undignified irritation that he’s leaving me here, debauched like this, jeans around my ankles, shirt rucked up high from him targeting my nipples, and dripping his load.
If you’re getting railed roadside there shouldn’t be an expectation of TLC after, but that doesn’t keep me from wanting it anyway.
I bury my face in my hands, leaning on the car naked, soft now and slick.
I balance with one hand on the car, tug my pants up and shirt down, and manage to get myself together enough to affect a leisurely lean back against the car as the headlights turn into a car that slows to pass us in the blue light.
The car goes by too fast to see that I’m shaking and out of breath, with freshly fucked hair going in every direction.
Sheriff Peter returns, looking like he just stepped out of a police academy recruiting advertisement while I must be the poster child for rode hard and put away wet. He holds a familiar package of wet wipes he must have retrieved from my glove box, stashed there for this scenario.
“I’m a fucking mess, Pete.” A rivulet runs down my leg. He snorts and his satisfied expression screams that he’s pleased with himself. He grabs my ass, helps me perform a quick and dirty clean up, and I pull up my jeans.
“You’re fine.”
I’m not fine. I’m trembling, shaken to my core by the intensity of us and the wild blend of emotions and sensations whirling through me.
“You’re not the one dripping. I have to go home like this.”
“Poor Lachlan. Poor, poor Lachlan who just got himself a good—no, great—fucking.” I give him the finger and start to walk back to my Jeep.
He calls after me, “I think it’s hot. You filled with my cum, I mean, I can’t imagine anything hotter—other than putting it there, obviously.”
I get in, buckle up, and I’m resting my forehead on the steering wheel when he walks up to my side, reaches in and runs his fingers through my hair and teases my hairline at the nape. I lean into his hand. I want so much more, but I need to go or he’ll get hard again and things will happen.
“I need you. Again. Soon. Soon like tomorrow.” His words make my shivering worse as I come down, sweaty, in the chilly night air.
I smile and give a little head shake, but the blood is moving south just thinking about it. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, we’re leaving for the airport for our honeymoon at six in the morning.” I give him a little, tired smile. I want my bed. “Am I free to go, Sheriff?”
He glances at my hands, shaking, where I am holding on to the steering wheel. “That was intense, have that Reese’s cup before you drive home. Start the vehicle so you can turn the heat on. Let’s get you warm. You can stay a minute and get your bearings.”
I give him the chocolate. “I saved that one for you, I got it at the rest stop.”
“Ahhh, the rest stop. Can I tell you how hot it was to find you prepped and ready? So fucking eager. Did you pregame for me at the rest stop?” He unwraps the peanut butter cup and holds it out in front of me, “Here, one bite.” I take a nibble, then he finishes the rest.
“I was at the rest stop when I saw Rufflestilskin Wells-Sterling’s AirTag. I was picking up my trash and wrappers to throw away when I spotted it. I made a longer stop, hoping you were tracking me, and took care of some business.”
“Having you rolling back into town lubed up and ready for me is one of the hottest things that has ever happened to me. Commando. So fucking hot.” He leans in and slides his hand up the inside of my thigh. My cock twitches. He’s an inch from cupping my balls and I want it all over again.
My cheeks flame, surely pinking up and giving away my need. “We haven’t done this… I mean, now that you’re the sheriff…”
We can’t get caught.
“I know, if we get caught it will another decade of being accused of sullying the Golden Child. Again.” He leans in and grazes my cheek with his lips, before the gentle brush of his against mine.
“What did you call me?” It’s hard to stop kissing, but my interest is piqued.
“Did I stutter? Doctor Lachlan Patric Phalen Sterling, AKA The Golden Child.”
I laugh, incredulous. The Golden Boy calling me the Golden Child? Pot, this is kettle, you’re golden. “What are you even talking about?”
“You’re the town’s Golden Child. Everyone loves you.”
He starts talking in an annoying high-pitched voice, fit for an unhinged cartoon character.
“Dr. Sterling is so wonderful. Dr. Sterling is so smart. Dr. Sterling is so handsome. Dr. Sterling fixed my ouchie. Dr. Sterling saved my daughter’s life when she consumed dihydrogen monoxide after watching the internet. ”
I’m howling with laughter, but his tirade continues. “I could just puke. If they knew half the shit you do behind closed doors they might quit acting like I’m the great Satan of Illinois and you’re the second coming. Claudine Escarole asked me if you have any brothers while you were gone.”
“She’s gotta be eighty if she’s a day.” We look at each other, smile, and say, “Declan,” at the same time. He’s the only one of my five brothers deserving of being hooked up with an elderly woman as a practical joke.
“I could make rainbows and gold doubloons stolen from leprechauns shoot straight from my ass for St. Patrick’s Day and they would say ‘look what Lachlan did for the town while Pete was busy farting around.’” He releases a giant sigh.
Poor put-upon Pete. If he was trying to stir the pot, he’s done it now.
“That’s total horseshit, Pete! Senior year, under the bleachers.
Pinned in a fucking corner, Pete. Your hands were down my pants and I’m the bad influence.
I’m surprised they didn’t accuse me of trying to get pregnant just to trap you with my magic dick.
I’m the town doctor and you’re the elected sheriff and they are still talking about it.
It’s been almost fourteen years. Fourteen. ”
“Lachlan, they tease you because they love you and seeing you blush is one of the most charming things I’ve ever seen.
These people adore you. I can’t go five feet without someone telling me how wonderful you are.
Me, fuck, they bitch about everything. Fix my ticket, Peter.
My neighbor’s dog is humping my cat, Peter.
They remind me—while I’m actively ruining a uniform to change their dry rotted old tire—that they can vote for someone else next time.
But not you, not their perfect Golden Child.
If it wasn’t for me you’d be president, because you’re perfect and I’m holding you back. ”
I laugh so hard I start to cry. How did I not know they were doing it to both of us?
He starts up again, bitching, and does the cartoon voice again.
“I can’t believe you got someone as wonderful as Dr. Sterling to marry you, Peter.
Lachlan Sterling could have anyone, he’s a doctor, you’re just the county sheriff.
” He stops, and looks sheepish after his rant.
“God, I missed you, I got off work at eleven but I didn’t want to wait another twenty minutes to touch you and I hoped you were feeling the same way.
It’s our first time sleeping apart since the wedding and I fucking missed you, Lachie. ”
He leans into me, and I nuzzle the top of his precious head.
“Why wasn’t I supposed to kiss you?” He knows that I can’t get enough kisses.
I give him a peck, then answer. “Babe, you hate the taste of coffee. I was getting tired, I had planned to have a mint or two but I was distracted by my raging hard on. I was surprised when your lights came on.”
“I didn’t notice, I was too happy to see you to worry about a little coffee flavor.” He glances at his watch. “It’s after midnight. You know what that means.”
“Happy anniversary, Pete. Fourteen years ago today, you realized you had to have all of this for your very own.”
“That’s not how I remember it at all.”
This is not a new argument. “You asked me how you could learn to kiss before your hot date with Bekka Drake, and I, younger but infinitely more worldly, offered myself as tribute.” For six weeks a year, he’s older than me and old man jokes abound. I live for it.
“I asked for kissing tips.”
“Wiser man that I am, I didn’t mention that I had never been kissed. I offered to be your practice lips, then you took advantage of me. How else were you supposed to realize that you loved me too?