Charlie Foxtrot (Code 11-KPD SWAT 5)

She smiled, looking relieved, and said, “Good.”

“Now,” I said, leading her to my truck. “About being alone…”Chapter 13Everyone loves my cooking. Even the smoke alarm cheers me on.

-Kitchen sign

Blake

“Are you sure you want me to stay here?” I asked, looking around at the apartment.

“I haven’t stayed here in weeks since this,” Foster said, gesturing to his leg. “But it’s got clean sheets, thanks to Mercy. And I’m going to stay here with you until we figure out why you have people breaking into, and shooting up, your house,” Foster replied as he dropped his keys onto the coffee table.

“Has it been empty?” I asked, looking around at the ultimate bachelor pad.

There wasn’t much to it. From what I could see, there were two bedrooms. One was empty but for a bed and a dresser, the other was empty but for a bed.

The living room was much the same, only sporting an older TV, two couches that looked to be purchased from a yard sale, and a table in between the kitchen and the living room, sans chairs.

“Is there anything you need or want from the house…something you can’t live without?” Foster asked. “They’ll have your front wall replaced by the end of the week, and the rest fixed in no more than three weeks. It shouldn’t take you long to get back there…if that’s what you want.”

I opened my mouth, hesitant to say it. “Umm, it’s heavy.”

“What is?” he asked, dropping his arm full of bags onto the table and turning back to me.

I worked my lip between my teeth, finally deciding to just say it.

“My pottery wheel.”

He blinked. “Pottery wheel?”

I nodded. “Yeah, my pottery wheel. I dug it out of storage when I left David, and well…I like it. It helps me sleep.”

“Is this like one of those things that you can make big mounds of dirt into a bowl?” He asked, eyebrows drawing down in concentration.

I nodded. “Clay. But yes, one and the same.”

“Isn’t something like that dirty?” He asked, walking into the kitchen and pulling a beer from the fridge.

The house was completely empty but for beer in the fridge. Now that was the ultimate bachelor pad.

“It can be dirty, yes. But I have plastic underneath the one in my house. I just mop the floor when I’m done,” I said. “My kiln is outside my house. I won’t need to use that until I have about ten pots ready to fire, so I don’t need it here.”

He nodded. “Where would be best for you to set it up?”

I went into the bedrooms.

Noticing that the spare bedroom didn’t have a bathroom I said, “I can do it in that room, it’d just be easier if I had it near a water source.”

He nodded. “How big is it?”

I held my hands as wide as I could get them. “This wide.”

He shook his head. “I’ll measure it. We’ll figure it out. Sounds to me like it’d be easier to just do it right here.”

He pointed to the corner of the living room, which happened to be nearest the bathroom.

“The rooms are too small to hold much more than a dresser and a bed. If you put it in there you’re going to have too much shit everywhere. At least here you can do it without it being in the way,” he observed, tilting the beer up to his lips.

“Thank you,” I said seriously. “That really means a lot to me.”

He shrugged. “As long as you don’t care that I sleep with all the TV’s on, we’ll be okay. I can’t stand the constant quiet.”

I nodded.

“That’s fine,” I said, nerves starting to take over when I realized that we’d be staying in the same place for over three weeks.

Three weeks of being in close quarters with a man that set fire to my blood, and stirred things in me that hadn’t been stirred in a very, very long time.

“We’ll get your wheel after dinner. Are you ready? Do you need to change?” He asked hopefully.

I looked down at my blue jean shorts, yellow flip flops, and lime green halter top. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”

He swallowed. “Your breasts. I can see them.”

I looked down, and sure enough, I could see them too. “What’s the big deal?”

“I’ve been trying to ignore the fact that you can see your nipples through the shirt,” he said, walking forward slowly as if not to spook me. “But I can’t.”

Little did he know that it took a lot to spook me. Such as a freakin’ thunderstorm, and I was fairly sure Foster was nothing more than a little thunder cloud.

I might get a little rumble of thunder from him with his constant need to protect and serve, regardless of who it was, but it’d never be anything more than that.

Then thunderstorms were the last thing on my mind as his long, blunt finger, circled the tip of my nipple.

I gasped as the feeling shot straight through to my toes.

My breasts had always been sensitive. Something that David never tried to explore.

I’d asked him, again and again, to touch my breasts, to suck on them, but he’d always steered clear of them.

I’d thought something was wrong with them, but suddenly I knew I was wrong.

Especially when Foster yanked my shirt to the side, allowing my breast to pop free of the built in bra and bounce with his exuberance.

He leaned down, and roughly captured my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

Hard enough that I clenched my core tightly. My pussy closing in on itself, desperate for something to be inside of it.

Anything!

He read me like an open book, though.

Letting his hand sneak around the back of my short shorts, he slipped two long fingers up and inside. Gliding underneath the elastic of my thong and delving in between my folds in a matter of seconds.

My eyes closed on their own volition, which was why I was surprised when he bit down on my nipple, causing me to gasp in excitement.

Then, finally, his fingers found my pussy and plunged inside.