“A little self-restraint never hurt anyone,” she gasps. “I might want you but I also want a Lexus and the shoes I saw at Nordstrom’s at the mall but I can’t afford either right now. Guess what, champ? I’m going to be okay.”
“Self-deprivation isn’t a good idea. It builds inside of you and explodes when you least expect it.”
“Speaking from experience?”
Her head falls back and she succumbs to the relentless rhythm of my hand.
“Fuck, baby, you are so beautiful right now. Your eyes are this deep pine green and you’re flushed pink everywhere. I can’t wait until I see what you look like with all your clothes off. I can’t wait until I can bury my head between those ripe thighs of yours. Now you shut those pretty green eyes and concentrate on my hand fucking you hard.”
Her eyes flutter shut as I commanded and I nearly come in my pants. That reaction, that blind obedience in the bedroom, is something that always turns me on.
Her head thrashes back and forth and my cock is trying to bash its way out of my jeans. I’m going to have a zipper burn but it’s all worth it. I keep talking, telling her how fine she is and how I can’t wait until she comes all over my hand. Her fingers dig into the shelves and my mouth doesn’t move from beside her ear where I keep whispering filthy things until her panting breaths get shorter and harsher. I feel her cunt tightening around me and I give her the permission I’m suspecting she needs. “Come, baby girl. Come hard.”
As if I’ve pressed a button, she gasps, her cunt clenches to the point of pain around my fingers and then orgasms all over my hand.
“Baby, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my forty-two years on this earth.” I keep my hand against her as she continues to convulse and kiss her again. As much as my cock is saying to ruck up her skirt and bend her over, I grapple for control but in the short space we’ve spent together I know two things. Our sexual compatibility is on the high end of the matching chart and we’re going to burn up the sheets.
“You need to stay away from me,” she says weakly.
That’s not happening. “I like to play in bed and out of it. Sex is fun, baby. It’s serious fun. Since I know you’re interested, it’s going to be damned hard to keep me away.”
I pull out my hand and suck her juices clean off.
Her eyes widen; her chest heaves but she remains damnably silent. The invitation I’m waiting for doesn’t come. Hiding my frustration, I muscle my form flush against her.
“When you’re at home tonight with your cold vibrator, think about this being shoved inside you. Might make it harder to come.”
“I’ve got a good imagination,” she says, her voice gaining power. “I’ve read a lot.”
It takes every ounce of self-control I’ve got not to flip her over the nearest horizontal surface and slam into her still-wet pussy. Yeah, I’m not leaving Pippa Lang alone. Not by a long shot and by her wary glance, she knows it.
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Chapter Two
Pippa
Hank “Judge” Harrison should have a red stamp on his driver’s license. Warning, it should read, hazardous to your health. Stay at least ten feet away at all times. I’ve never made good decisions about men. My mom says that’s because I have daddy issues. She’s probably right.
Chuck Lang only parented me when he felt like it, which was usually my birthday and the rare holidays.
I thought I’d come to accept his laissez-faire attention but it’s easier said than done. I knew I wasn’t going to find a dad on the end of some random guy’s dick but that didn’t stop me from pursuing every hot piece of male ass in Eau Claire. By the time I left for college, my reputation wasn’t pretty.
In college, I remade myself, as most people do. I shut my legs and turned on my brain. I still didn’t make good decisions about guys but I made fewer mistakes simply by not dating much and not sleeping around.
But my body has a hard time listening to my head, particularly when I’ve gone through a dry spell. Currently my body is screaming for me to run out after Judge, strip off my clothes and climb on top of him. I’m not sure what I want to do first, either.
His promise to spend time between my legs wars with the hot images of him thrusting on top of me. Even better would be if he gave me a few instructions as he had in the office. God, his gravelly voice telling me to come…one thing the vibe can’t do is talk to me. Maybe I’ll surreptitiously record him and then play it in the background on repeat while I’m in the privacy of my home.
“You okay, Ms. Lang?” asks five-year-old Bethenny. “You look like you have a fever.”
“I think it’s my pink shirt, honey. Redheads shouldn’t wear pink,” I say easily despite being embarrassed at having been caught by one of my kindergarten reading group members fantasizing about the local MC’s president.
She smiles. “My mommy says I should wear whatever makes me feel happy so if pink makes you happy, you oughta wear it.”
“Your mommy is a smart woman,” I say and wink at her mother.
I get my act together and manage to stop thinking about Judge, the office and sex for at least fifty minutes out of each hour. The busier I am, the easier it is and I’m so grateful when Stephanie from the movie theater side asks me to help her restock concessions when the library closes.
When I exit the library, I’m unsurprised to see the fit, tall police chief lounging against his Jeep.
“Chief Schmidt,” I say in mock surprise. “How are you today?”
“You hadn’t returned my calls,” he says. “I was getting worried.”
“Summer is a busy time for libraries. I’m trying to get all my programs set up for the kids of Fortune.” I give him a wide smile. It’s a prevarication and we both know it. If I wanted to see Eric, I’d have no problem carving out time for him.
“I worry about you living so far out of town and by yourself.” He steps onto the curb and even though he’s still several feet away I have this urge to step back.
“Not to worry. I’ve got my dog. He’s a fierce protector.” My Doberman, Morgen, almost took a piece out of Eric when he’d come to pick me up for dinner the other night. I needed to trust my dog’s instincts more. They were clearly better than mine.
“I’m glad I caught you.” He takes two steps and closes the distance between us. It’s silly to feel imperiled standing in the middle of the town square at dusk, but I can’t shake the slight tremble.
Eric catches it and a gleam appears in his eyes. I think…I think he likes that I’m scared. I turn away under the pretense of trying to find my car keys.
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“I wanted to clear up the misunderstanding we had the other night.”
When I’d come to town to interview with the mayor and council members, Eric Schmidt had driven me around. He appeared well liked wherever we went but as time went on I had a sneaking suspicion that they only treated him kindly because he was the chief, not because he was a decent guy.
When I got hired, I was pleased he invited me to go on a ride along so I could get to know Fortune better. And when that turned into a dinner at the local sit-down restaurant, I said yes again. Eric’s a handsome guy with what I presume is a good body. He’s got a respectable job and he opens car doors and pulls out chairs. On the surface, he seemed like a good choice.
But something’s off about him. The wait staff at the Hilltop Cafe danced around the table as if they were afraid he was going to start issuing citations. And the way he looks at women, as if he has some ownership over their bodies, sets off alarms. But the kicker was the looks of reproof in his eyes the other night when I wore a black pencil skirt that hugged my ass and a tight-fitting knit top. All my bits were covered but I wore something that showcased my figure. Eric’s comment about my clothes made me wonder if he’d complimented me or given me the worst type of insult.
“You’re looking real showy tonight,” he’d said.
“You’re so pretty you don’t really need to dress like that.”
“Thanks,” I’d answered because at the time I hadn’t processed the insult. I wasn’t even sure it was one until later when I replayed the comment in my head.
When he’d dropped me off at the house, he’d wanted a kiss good-night but I’d spent the entire dinner stewing over the comment and wasn’t in the mood.
“You didn’t like the dinner?” he’d asked, surprised.
“Yes, the food was very good,” I’d said.
He’d leaned an arm against the door, kind of trapping me—not unlike Judge’s position in the closet, but I hadn’t been afraid of Judge, only wildly turned on. Eric made me nervous the other night and he is making me nervous now.
“Did I offend you by asking for a kiss?” Eric asks.