Chapter 37 Sloane
SLOANE
Kaden left two days ago, and now that I’m alone, I realize something: it’s been days since I saw Beckett.
Ok, so maybe that’s an exaggeration. But he comes home late, eats, showers, goes to bed, sleeps for only a few hours, and then gets up before I wake up.
I miss him.
More than I ever thought it was possible to miss a person.
The city is in chaos, right now it seems. There is a massive manhunt for The Ghost Killer, who we are now certain is Gideon.
Who happens to be the person who was a fucking creep and started my downward spiral.
It’s really comforting to know that he was killing girls in the area, and Beckett refuses to tell me whether that day was just a fluke or if I was his next target.
I’m in lockdown mode right now, as Beckett calls it, confined to either the house or to the station with him. No more runs, and under no circumstances am I to leave the house without telling him.
It’s not all terrible, I mean, he’s been helping me learn self-defense. In my free time, I have been learning how to box, mostly by watching YouTube videos and by using the old punching bag that is in the workout room in the basement.
To add to the chaos, there are also two missing kids that are totally separate cases from The Ghost Killer case.
Beck’s been working doubles and barely coming home long enough to sleep. I feel bad for him. He’s stretching himself thin, but he’s the lead detective on the missing little girl case, so of course, he’s throwing himself in deep. He has to, it’s just how he is.
He’s also been worried about me, checking in as much as he can, even though I told him I was doing better.
I really am. Kaden being here really helped.
We talked, and talked, and talked. I needed someone to just listen.
He’s pissed. I’m really hoping that he doesn’t go and do something stupid. I need my big brother.
I’m slowly digesting all the information I have about Martin. It still really fucking hurts, and there’s a hole in my chest the size of a planet that has opened up. But I actually feel ok now.
I’ve been going to the shelters and keeping myself busy by helping others. And if I’m not at the shelters, I’m focusing on my garden, getting the plants ready to harvest.
But at the end of the day, all I want is Beckett. I miss him so much. I never thought it was possible to miss a person as much as I’ve missed him over the last few days.
He doesn’t even work from his home office, just stays at the precinct the whole time while Mocha and I pout and wait for him to get home.
It’s kinda pathetic, actually, but it’s a good reminder to never leave Mocha by himself for a long period of time. I hate not having my person.
Yeah, my person. I realized it awhile ago, but if this week has shown me anything, it’s that I want him in my life. I’m sad if I don’t get to see his handsome face every day, touch him, or kiss him when I’m awake.
I try to wait for him, but I get tired. I sleep in our bed, usually snuggled up in one of his shirts, because it all smells like him.
Call me a weirdo, but I’ve also started using his body wash. It’s not nearly as good for my skin as the one I normally use, but I’m desperate.
I knew what I was doing when I put on the dress. I’d picked it out when we went shopping the other day.
It isn’t anything fancy. Just a pale blue mid-thigh length summer dress that matches the color of the accents on my Bronco.
I slip on some cute sandals and pull out my Polaroid camera. I take a picture and remind myself to slip it into his wallet or something.
I pull out my phone and Google BBQ joints that are still open.
It’s not super late, almost 10:30 p.m., but some places close early on Sundays.
Sunday. I think that’s what made me miss him most. This is the first Sunday he has worked since I moved in.
He volunteered to take a patrol shift since they are low on officers this week.
I get into my car and go to pick up food before stalking him on Life360. I pull up behind him. He’s hidden in an alleyway, out of sight.
I walk up to the driver’s window, but before I can knock, he rolls the window down.
“Evening, Officer,” I say with a false-innocent smile.
Fuck, he looks so good.
“Sloane,” he says through gritted teeth as his eyes take me in.
“I figured you’d be hungry. I got us pulled pork sandwiches with hush puppies and extra pickles.” I try to keep my voice even as he slowly gets out of the car, a dark look in his eyes, making my voice squeak just slightly.
I step back from him, while he steps toward me. He doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure which part worries me more. The fact that he’s not speaking, or the way he looks like he's going to devour me, and not the sandwiches I’d picked up.
He herds me towards the back of the SUV.
“Get in,” he says, popping the latch on the trunk.
I think about fighting with him on it, but the look on his face right now tells me that would not be a good idea.
I quickly climb in, scooting back to make room for both of us.
He follows in after me, closing the door and locking us in the space together.
He takes the paper bag from me and sets it off to the side. He unclips his utility belt and climbs over me, pressing me into the floor of the car. My dress hiking up my thighs as I let my legs fall open in order to accommodate him.
“You think you can show up here, in something like this, when I haven’t even kissed you properly in days, and I won’t ruin you?” he whispers, my heart pounding in my chest as he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.
I’ve never seen him like this.
We’ve gotten heated before, but this was almost…feral.
“I just wanted to see you,” I whisper. My heart races in my chest, but in a good way.
He growls, the hottest and scariest sound I think I’ve ever heard.
My stomach flutters with butterflies, and a warm feeling rushes down to my core.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited for something I’m scared of.
“Yeah, is that what it is?” All I can do is nod.
He pushes my dress up around my hips. He looks down at my lace thong, twisting it in his fingers and ripping it off my body like it directly offended him or something.
“Wearing this?” he growls, holding up what’s left.
“Those were my favorite pair,” I whine, trying to joke, but I don’t think he finds me funny.
“Open your mouth,” he demands.
“W-what?” I whimper.
“Wouldn’t want anyone to hear what I’m about to do to you, baby,” he hums, his eyes almost black as he leans over me and presses a kiss to my forehead before slipping the lace into my parted lips.
I’m pretty sure my brain is short-circuiting as he lets go of my wrists and leans back on his haunches and undoes his pants.
“I want your eyes on me,” I nod, swallowing nothing. “Do you trust me?” he asks, grabbing two sets of handcuffs from his belt, and my eyes widen.
Oh God. I think I might be dead.
“Answer me.”
I nod, frantically. “Yes, I do trust you.”
“Good girl,” he whispers, taking my wrist and clicking the cool metal into place, before taking my wrist and lifting it above my head, and securing it to a metal bar, before doing the same thing with my right wrist. When it clicks, my heart rate picks up, and I jerk slightly on the restraints, but of course, they don’t budge.
He strokes himself a few times as he gets his cock free. He doesn’t waste time removing all our clothes, just leans over me and lines himself up.
I will never recover from this. I never thought that I’d be into this kind of thing. But I am. I totally am.
“Now be a good girl,” he whispers, leaning over me and sucking on my earlobe. His warm breath sends every nerve ending in my body into overdrive. “And stay quiet for Daddy.”
Dead. I’m fucking dead.
He pushes into me, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. My moans and whimpers are muffled by the panties in my mouth.
His hand grips my jaw, and he forces my eyes to his.
“I said, look at me.”
With every hard thrust, I jerk on the restraints, but they don’t budge. Every single thrust hits a spot so deep inside me that I see stars.
“You look so good, baby, so fucking good,” he praises, his eyes locked on mine as he rocks into me. I whimper through the panties, my brain not working anymore.
“Baby, is this what you wanted?” Thrust. “Did you miss Daddy’s cock?” Thrust.
My eyes roll back, and I cry out for him, even though it’s muffled through lace.
“Watch me. Watch as I fuck this pretty pussy. While I take it and make it mine. You hear me, baby? This pussy is mine.” His face is almost touching mine, his eyes coal black, and I feel like I’m going to explode in a way that I never had before.
“No, not yet, baby,” He says, and I whimper.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Why was this so fucking hot? I should hate this, I should shove him away.
I can’t. I’m so turned on right now that when he leans down and whispers in my ear, I’m afraid I’ll completely fall apart.
“Fuck,” he moans into my ear. He pants in my ear, and I’m so close. “You take me so good, baby.”
I feel like I’m going to cry at the restraint of trying not to come until he says to.
He wipes away my tears with the pads of his thumbs, his face softening slightly. “You ok, baby?” he whispers, and I nod.
I’m so much more than ok. His thrusts pick up speed, his rhythm faltering as he grips my hips tightly. Almost like he’s afraid that if he lets go, I’ll disappear.
“Sloane, I can’t— baby, oh God,” he grunts, and his hips stutter against mine.
“I’m gonna fill you, baby,” he says, and that does me in. My toes curl as I experience the most intense orgasm of my life.
My whole body spasms as I clench around him. My head falls back as muffled cries slip through the fabric in my mouth.
Beckett loses control, and I can barely understand what he’s saying as he thrusts into me like he’s trying to split me in half.
He’s buried so far inside me, I think that I can feel him in my stomach.