Pushing the Limit

Peppermint

Waking up to morning wood pressed against the crack of my ass is not the norm for me. I damn near panicked until I remembered Dash carrying me to bed.

He stayed. He stayed, and we didn’t fuck, didn’t do anything sexual. He massaged my aching feet and carried me to bed. What the hell does that mean? This whole sex is just sex business is confusing as all fuck. That’s what this relationship is supposed to be. Something fun. Something relaxed. Not something that has my stomach in knots.

Still, I didn’t panic and scramble out of the bed. I stayed exactly where I was with his muscular arms draped over my waist, our legs entwined, and yes, his dick pressing to my ass. I’m tempted to wiggle, push against him more, and see how he reacts, but the doorbell puts a stop to those plans.

Reluctantly, I ease out of bed and grab my robe, slipping it on as I walk down the hall. I take a look out the window, and dread fills my gut.

“Morning, Officer. What can I do for you?” I ask, praying nothing has happened to my son. Ever since he moved out, I worry about him. He’s a good kid, always has been, but it’s my job to worry.

“We’re looking into a missing person,” he answers, handing me a photo of Dean Hasselmont. President of the Souls of Satan. “Do you recognize this man?”

I shrug a little. “He seems a tad familiar, but I can’t say I do.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. What’s this about? You said he’s missing?”

Definitely not missing. And definitely not coming back.

“He was reported missing a couple weeks ago. We’re looking into it and canvassing the area.”

I know that’s a lie. Not sure why the officer is lying. The Souls’ clubhouse isn’t near my home. He wasn’t in this area. And from what I know, he didn’t have any family.

“Oh goodness! He lived in this area?” I ask, pretending to be upset someone could go missing in the quiet little community I live in.

“Just let us know if you hear or see anything, will you?” the officer replies, handing me his card.

“I absolutely will.”

He glances over his shoulder at me once as he heads back to his patrol car. I shut the door and look down at his card. Officer Whitfield. Don’t recognize the name.

“Everything okay?” Dash asks, running his fingers through his messy hair as he emerges from my bedroom.

“Do you know if the Souls had cops on their payroll?”

He snorts. “Probably. We all do.”

“Well, this one just showed up at my door asking if I recognized Dean.”

I hand him the card, and he frowns. “Don’t know this one, but I’ll have Seth check into it. See if anything turns up.”

“He said he was canvassing the area.”

“Well, that’s a load of shit. Dean didn’t live in this area, and the clubhouse isn’t here either. If there’s a connection, I’m sure Seth can find it.”

He tosses the card onto my coffee table and reaches for me, a gleam in his eyes. I take his hand, and he jerks me toward him.

“I was an asshole last night when you were only trying to help. I apologize,” he says.

“It’s no big deal. We all have our issues.”

“I just want my mom to be happy. She doesn’t think she deserves that.”

“Sometimes it takes people longer to realize how special they are. Just keep telling her,” I encourage.

He cups my face and presses a searing kiss to my lips before turning me around and leaning me over the couch.

“Now, how about I give you a proper good morning?”