Protect (16 page)

“She feeling any better?”

Fritter shook his head, swallowing the last
mouthful from his third beer of the evening. “Nah. That fuckin’
cough wakes us both up, then she feels bad about wakin’
me
.”

“Might get Doctor Webber to look at her.”

Tracy Webber was a legitimate doctor at the
hospital, knew his mom from there. She’d remarked to him about his
mother’s cough, offered to examine her off the books. His mother
wanted no favors.

“You know Ma, too proud for handouts. I’ll
get her there eventually, but in her mind it’s nothin’ really bad
until the doctor tells you otherwise. Ignore it and there’s nothin’
wrong.”

“Sounds like a mom.”

“Yeah, it does.”

The sunset faded and when he checked his
phone he found he was due at the motel in fifteen. He begged off,
glad that no one really took note of him leaving early anymore. The
baby was being put to bed and Trinny was trying to wrangle two
sleepy but stubborn kids into her SUV. Jayce had convinced her to
stay at his house this time. It looked like progress.

His Dyna purred like a big cat all the way to
their usual spot, but Downey’s car wasn’t in the lot. So he paid
for what he considered “their” room, along with a fifth of
Tennessee whisky, and headed up to the second interior level,
surprised to beat her getting there.

In the room he ignored the overhead, turning
on one of the nightstand lights instead. In the bathroom he
collected the glasses and poured out a couple doubles. His leather
was folded and placed on the dresser, and he yanked off his T-shirt
as well. Then he brought his Jack Daniels back to the bed and
stretched out on top of the covers to wait.

She was ten minutes late, which he found
bizarre, but one look at her expression and he was on his feet,
taking her arms in his hands to force her to look at him.

“Jesus. What happened today?”

Sharon looked taken by surprise, and she
blinked a few times. “I had a real shitty day.”

She was pale and drawn, with a haunted look
to her eyes that he could relate to. She’d seen something terrible
that day. He knew it wasn’t anything
they
had done, so maybe
he could get her to talk. “What happened?”

She shook her head and peeled his hands off
of her. Grabbing the other glass she downed it on one try and
hissed in her next breath. While she gathered her wits he poured
another. “Sharon?”

“I can’t tell you. You know that.”

“Maybe I can help?”

Her laugh wasn’t light at all. “No, you
can’t. Because it’s in my head and it’s rattling around and I feel
like I might be sick from it.” Her lip trembled and her eyes grew
shiny.

“Jesus. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re
freakin’ me out.”

She studied him, holding the refreshed glass
to her chest. Her eyes looked still but he could tell the gears in
her head were spinning. That was when he realized he had no
business doing what he did with her; she was too fucking smart. He
was totally unarmed and outclassed when it came to her.

“You really want to know? Because I know it
wasn’t anything to do with you guys but ... we don’t
talk
,
Fritter.”

“I know. But you also don’t usually come here
lookin’ ready to move out to a cabin in the woods and go off grid,
either.”

That brought a trace of a smile.

“Tell me, gorgeous. I’m getting’ the vibe you
don’t really want me touchin’ you, either. We may as well
talk.”

Her eyes flicked over his face again, then
she circled the bed, yanked the comforter to the foot of the bed
and sat down. She kicked off her sandals, stretched her legs out in
front of her, and waited while he sat on the opposite side and
assumed the same pose. The bottle was on his side of the bed so he
added another couple fingers to her glass and motioned for her to
proceed.

“I think I found another Mazari storage spot
today. In the old Gypsy clubhouse in Hazeldale.”

He froze before taking a pull of Jack.
“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“More kids?”

“Yeah. And ... fuck, this is going to make me
sound terrible.”

That was all she had, he realized. “Just say
it. Remember who you’re sittin’ with.”

That made her laugh and his chest opened at
the sound. Shit, had he ever heard her laugh before?

“Okay. These kids ... I think they were the
rejects.”

“Rejects?”

“The photos of kids we found in that trailer
out by Terry’s? The little boy your guys brought in? They were
cute. All of them. I mean, big eyes, rosy round cheeks. Shiny hair.
Nice teeth. These kids today ...” she took another gulp of Jack,
wincing in a way that was kind of cute. Not that he’d tell Sheriff
Downey she was
cute
. “These kids had bugged eyes and
overbites. They had been raped. All of them. Don’t get me wrong,
they weren’t just being locked up. But it’s like these were for
lower-paying customers or something. Or anyone who wanted their
kicks without the hassle of body disposal.” She ran her free hand
over her face. “Fuck. I thought I was going to be sick. It was this
dirt-floor cellar with buckets for them to shit in and ...” Her
voice wavered and that hand went to cover her eyes. “I can’t get
their faces out of my head.”

Shit, she was crying. He had to admit, he was
over his head here again. He took the glass from her and put both
on the nightstand as she slumped forward, one arm around her
stomach. When he put an arm around her she crumpled sideways into
his hold, her head resting on his shoulder. Her entire body shook
as she wept, and he gathered her up-almost in a ball-and held her
across his lap as she sobbed.

Her hair was against his cheek, a little bit
damp, and he had to breathe it in. She smelled good, fresh from the
shower. This was what he could smell on most of her when they were
together, soaked into her skin. He couldn’t stop his dick from
growing hard, but he was pretty sure he had her settled in such a
way she couldn’t tell. His hand ran up and down the side of her
leg, because he had no idea how to make her feel better.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually said when she’d
stilled in his hold. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I hate that shit, I
really do. We just had a baby shower for Buck and Gertie tonight. I
... I can’t imagine anyone wantin’ to hurt a kid. It doesn’t make
me sick. It just makes me fuckin’ furious.”

“We’re watching the building, obviously. It’s
the scene of a crime now. And I don’t think they’ll come back
anyway. But ... I really don’t want these guys in Markham. I don’t
think I can maintain my professionalism if I know they’re anywhere
near my town.”

He digested that, then he had to grin.
“Maintain your professionalism, hey?”

She shook, from laughing this time. “Yeah.”
Then she straightened up, clearing her throat and wiping her eyes.
She stayed on his lap though, and the shift brought her ass in
contact with his erection. With one arched eyebrow her smile
vanished and she just looked at him.

Fritter sighed. “I’m sorry. But you smell
good and ...” She was getting up off the bed and he took that as a
sign that he was definitely not getting laid. “You’re a hard-body,
too, Sharon. You feel really good.”

When he looked up she was pulling off her
shirt, and he fell silent. She still had her bra on because she
hadn’t gotten here first to “prepare.”

Fritter decided to relish the sight of her
authentically undressing.

Both hands went to her back to unclasp that
crisp bra and she slid it down her arms, then tossed it onto the
dresser. She turned back, her breasts swaying, and he licked his
lips. His erection became pained.

Her fingers made quick work of the fly of her
jeans and she shoved them down her hips and thighs until gravity
took them to her ankles. As she stepped out of the legs the muscles
in her legs popped into sight then went back to being pale, shapely
and lovely.

She leaned against the dresser in pale blue
panties, looking at him with a completely blank expression. He
kicked off his sneakers and had his pants undone and off so fast he
was a little surprised to find himself naked. But she was there too
and he got over it fast, approaching her and surprising her by
dropping to his knees at her feet.

“Fritter—”

“Shh,” he whispered, hands running up the
backs of her legs. Her skin was so smooth and warm. She’d
definitely had a shower, and after telling him where she’d been he
couldn’t blame her.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled up at her, pulling down her panties
and helping her step out of them. “I’m gonna make you feel good,
darlin’.”

Her lips parted, and he pushed his hands
between her taut thighs. The muscles under his hands trembled, but
she let him position her.

“You don’t have to.”

He kissed one thigh, then the other. “I know
I don’t have to. You’re always wet for me, Sharon.” Now he looked
up at her again. “Makes me want to taste you even more.”

He didn’t imagine it—she trembled again. He
nuzzled into the short, trimmed, blond hair at the juncture between
her legs. It smelled the same as her hair, just warmer.
Closer
. He dipped his head lower, his tongue sliding along
the cleft of skin above her clit and for the first time
ever
she made a sound.

It was a soft whimper. So sweet, unexpected
from her. But fuck him if it didn’t make his erection kick. His
tongue lavished attention on her clit, made brave and bold by that
whimper. She gave him another, and as he cast his eyes upward along
her body he was thrilled to see her head thrown back, her hands
gripping the edge of the dresser so tightly her knuckles were
white. Her hips rocked a bit, granting him room and taking it away
in turns. He worked with the motion, eventually adding his fingers
to the treatment. Plunging them inside he found her so warm, and so
fucking wet he could barely stand it.

“Fritter,” she gasped, and his dick liked
that, too. His whole body really liked that.

Her orgasm was still silent, but he felt it
around his fingers. When he was sure she was through it he pulled
his hand free and licked her from his skin. She was still watching
him, face flushed, but before she could retreat into her head again
he stood, steering her to the bed by her perfectly firm hips.

“How you want me, Sharon?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah you do. You just won’t say it.”

Again with the blinking to clear her head. He
didn’t want that. He took her chin in his hand and tried to kiss
her but she evaded his mouth, as usual. “Fuck me from behind,” she
whispered before he could lament that denied kiss.

“Sure thing.” He whipped her around to face
the other way, then pushed her to the mattress. She climbed up and
he retrieved a condom, trying not to get distract by her ass as she
braced her hands on the pillows and assumed the standard
position.

Kneeling behind her he let his hands slide
over her backside, the backs of her legs, up her back and then back
to that ass. He loved how hard she was under this silky skin. Such
a contradiction. Instead of going up on his knees he pulled her
back onto his cock, her legs pressing to the outside of his as he
slid inside. She gave a soft sound of surprise.

As she adjusted to holding him inside he let
his hands explore her ribs, up to her breasts. He cupped them both,
rolling her nipples roughing between his fingers and thumbs. That
made her rock her hips and he had to close his eyes, pressing his
forehead to her back.

That’s when Fritter realized she’d never
ridden him, used him to get off. Suddenly he wanted nothing more in
the entire world.

Sharon seemed to have the same thought. She
rose up on her knees, dropped back down, and he groaned. A few more
times and he was holding on with everything he had. But then he had
to dig deeper. Her hands clutched the top edge of the cheap
headboard, and with minimal in and out she ground herself down on
him until he thought he’d lose his mind. His fingers bit into her
hips but he didn’t try to stop or control her. He honestly just
needed to hold on.

Her climax was still silent but his head was
buzzing with anything and everything boring that would prevent him
from letting go with her.

He could have, but he didn’t. He didn’t
want
to, but he wasn’t sure why. He had no idea why he had
the need to put in marathon performances with Sharon. His casual
hook ups didn’t get this kind of effort.

She slumped into his chest, still trembling
and her back sweaty. With his upper body strength alone he turned
them both so she was facing the foot of the bed, on her stomach.
She tried to go up on hands and knees but he pinned her, still
planted deep, breathing into her ear. “Like this. I want you like
this.”

She nodded and he snapped his hips back and
forth, feeling how her back arched to allow him room. Her legs
spread wider and he did his damndest to fill her completely.

He ran one hand under her body to cup her
chin, tilting her head towards the mirror on the dresser. She liked
to watch him in the mirror, he knew that. It got him hard
remembering every time he’d caught her watching their reflection.
Now her eyes blazed as she watched, his body surging against her
ass, the long, trim lines of her trapped under him.

“Come for me again, baby.”

She whimpered, and he made it his new goal to
always make her whimper.

“Come for me. I’ll watch with you.”

A few more long strokes and she did, mouth
open in a soundless shout, eyes eventually squeezing shut then
fluttering open again as she caught her breath. He smiled at her
reflection.

“Perfect,” he whispered as the tremors left
her. “One more and it’s my turn.”

It was the Jack Daniels, it had to be.