Rolling her hips, she flexed her inner muscles and clamped down around me, making my eyes roll into the back of my head and a grunt expel through my lips, with my grip on her hips tightening to the point there would probably be bruises later on.
Jesus, the things this woman did to me.
Once my eyes were able to right themselves, I saw the challenge in hers and the smirk on her kiss swollen lips taunting me, all but asking me what I was going to do about. So I sat up, changing the angle of my next thrust and used my hands on her sweat slicked hips to bring her down hard on top of me, hitting that one spot I’d been aiming for. Her head fell back and a cry of pleasure erupted from her throat, making my own smirk form.
Safe in the knowledge I could do things to her too.
“Boobs are like the sun,” I heard her say, sounding amused as she set a glass of beer down on the bar top in front of me. “You can stare at them directly for just a few seconds. But if you wear sunglasses, you can stare at them as much as you want.”
Then going up onto her tiptoes, she leaned across the bar and pulled down the sunglasses that had been perched on top of my head to cover my eyes before stepping back with a smile and adding, “Ta da!”
She’d already served three more drinks and an order of food before my brain rebooted enough to even think to lift the sunglasses back on top of my head.
Even not knowing its history, I could tell the bar wasn’t newly opened in any sense of the word, but it was new to me now that I’d finally gotten hired on with the city’s police department. I’d worked for a few years in a smaller town a couple of hours south of there, but I’d grown tired of the majority of my calls being noise complaints, with the occasional underage drinking thrown into the mix.
I’d wanted something different.
Ever since laying eyes on her, I wanted a different kind of something.
Normally I was a lot smoother when it came to women, so I blamed her.
She was no ordinary woman.
When she finally wandered back towards me, she replaced my empty beer glass with another full one and I made myself focus on her face, while I said, “I didn’t order that.”
Or the first one, if you wanted to get technical.
But in my defense, I’d been blinded by boobs.
…And thirsty, apparently.
“You would have,” she smiled. “I have a gift for knowing what people want.”
Was there some sort of mental sunglasses I could wear?
Because just looking at her, what I wanted wasn’t exactly polite conversation.
Or ‘polite’ in any sense of the word.
So maybe it was thinking that she really did have some sort of telepathic gift that had my mouth overriding any filters I knew I had once possessed and saying in a tone bathed in innuendo, “Does your gift extend beyond choice of beverages?”
“Sure,” she smirked and offered with a wink, “One order of buffalo wings, coming right up.”
Flipping her over, the loud sound of indignant protest at me pulling out was soon replaced with an even louder moan of approval, when I pulled her hips up and slammed back inside of her.
We’d been at it for who knows how long now – I’d only been outside of her body for seconds – and yet, like always, I marveled at the scorching heat of her surrounding me. At the combined scent of her skin and shampoo and sex permeating the air and filling me with a sense of home.
It was where I was always meant to be.
“You know,” she smiled, seeing me waiting outside of the bar as she stepped out and locked up for the night. “You don’t have to wait on me every night I close. Surely there’s a crime happening out there somewhere that you should be stopping right now.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m doing,” I teased back.
Her boss Sam seemed like a nice enough guy, but I didn’t like the fact he seemed so careless when it came to her safety. Having her close up the bar on her own at three o’clock in the morning just seemed like asking for trouble.
I only found out by sheer coincidence that she’d been leaving at night on her own, when I happened to be driving by in my patrol car one night and saw her traipsing across the dimly lit parking lot towards her car.
All alone, except for the metaphorical neon arrow I could see flashing above her head, pointing her out to any and all shitbags who would want to do unspeakable things to her.
‘Not on my watch’ took on a very literal meaning for me from then on.
My shifts overlapped hers, so my sleep patterns had me awake regardless of whether or not I was working and for the last couple of months, since that night, I’d been at the bar at the end of every shift she closed, just to make sure she got home okay.
She didn’t complain.
They were more like token complaints.
“You sure are paranoid,” she softly smiled. “I’ve been closing up the bar for well over a year, now that Sam and Daphne are married, and nothing’s happened to me yet.”
“Jesus, Sookie,” I playfully whined. “You just jinxed yourself.”
“Ah,” she nodded in amusement. “And you’re superstitious too.”
Rolling my eyes – because it wasn’t superstition – it was precognitive, if that shit came true – she waited until they righted themselves to ask, “You coming over for Netflix and cold pizza?”
“Sure,” I shrugged.
That was a rather new development.
Hanging out at her place for a few hours after work on the nights I was off.
As just friends.
Or so she kept telling me.
I was okay with it, though.
Or so I kept telling myself, all the way to her place.
The truth was, this budding friendship we had growing between us felt different than anything I’d experienced with any of the other women from my past. Different in a way I couldn’t put my finger on yet, but whatever it was, I had the feeling Sookie was going to be one of those people that were with you for a lifetime.
As a friend or more, only time would tell.
Brushing her lips across my face in barely there kisses, I felt her breath ghosting down the side of my neck, across my clavicle, and down the center of my chest.
Expecting her lips to close around the nipple they were hovering above, I choked out a surprised huff of air feeling her hand close around the base of my shaft instead and she gave me firm stroke, as she chuckled, “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”
No, I didn’t.
Sookie had blindsided me in every sense of the word.
“You’re full of shit,” I laughed.
Loudly, apparently, since it seemed every head in the bar turned our way. But I didn’t care.
She was full of shit.
“I’m not,” she laughed out and then shook her head in amused disappointment. “He seemed so normal. One minute we’re having dinner in a nice restaurant and the next, he’s excusing himself to go to the bathroom and texts me a dick pic.”
“How?” I choked out, in between uncontrollable laughter. “Why? What?”
Which was shorthand for, ‘How did he think that was okay?’ and ‘Why did he think that was a good idea, on a first date, no less? What in the hell was wrong with him?’
But Sookie seemed to understand me just fine because she nodded her head and replied, “Exactly.”
Once I was able to settle down, I wiped the tears from my eyes and asked, “So what did you do?”
“What any sane person with a vendetta streak a mile wide would do,” she grinned. “I called the waiter over and changed my order to the most expensive dish on the menu – to go – and sexted him long enough for the food to arrive. Then I booked it the hell out of there, leaving him with nothing more than sticky palms and the check.”
She watched me lose it all over again and then shrugged, “At least I got dinner out of it that time. I didn’t even make it out of the driveway the time before.”
Which led her to explain how another one of her online dates had pulled up in front of her place and when she met him at the car, he was sitting in the driver’s seat with his dick out, asking her, “What do you think?”
My stomach hurt from laughing so much, hearing her sound like a disapproving schoolmarm, when she stood arms akimbo and said, “I think the date is over.”
“That is why I’ve given up on dating,” she explained, once I’d calmed down enough to hear her. “Too many dicks. Literally.”
“Maybe your computer has a virus,” I chuckled. “Like herpes.”
“Huh,” she breathed out, looking contemplative for a moment before looking back at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And here I thought maybe my Mac just liked girls. I was thinking of giving that a try next.”
Sitting as still as a statue, while the mental images she’d evoked poured directly from one head into the other, I only knew my mouth had been hanging open when I felt it go dry.
Taking a long pull from my beer, I couldn’t help but think of something else I would rather have wetting my lips.
Someone whose something else she likely knew I was thinking about, when my eyes met hers and her tinkling laughter filtered down to me from the other end of the bar.
“Eric, Eric, Eric…ah…right there…”
Bracing her body above mine, with my hands on her ass, I vaguely registered the sound of her head smacking into the wall above the headboard, as she tried to grind down onto my face even harder.
Pulling back just enough to be heard, I asked, “Are you o…”
“Don’t! Stop!” she growled, with one hand shooting down to force my head back where she wanted it and the other making the headboard creak from the force of her grip.
It turned out she got off from the vibration of my chuckling, just as well as when I hummed around her clit.
“So why is it, cop cars are always parked Ying Yang style?” she asked one night, in between episodes of Iron Fist on Netflix.
It was a godawful name, even if it was meant to be taken literally.
Sookie had nodded in agreement with my assessment and said, “Like if the Kama Sutra got together with the Spanish Inquisition and had a rape baby.”
That had led to my very first spit-take.
“Cop sex?” I asked, pushing past her hand that was trying to keep me from getting the last of the M&M’s in the bottom of the bowl of popcorn and shrugged, “We’re fucking off.”
“Like a circle jerk,” she nodded in understanding and then laughed, “There’s a lot of cop sex going on. I’m surprised there aren’t a bunch of little cop cars running around.”
“That’s why the first half of our motto is ‘To Protect’,” I said before tipping the last of the M&M’s, along with a handful of popcorn, into my mouth and grinned, watching bits and pieces fly in her direction when I talked around them to add, “We use protection.”
“Huh,” she grimaced, wiping the spittle crumbs from her shirt. “I would’ve thought it was your grotesque lack of manners.”
“Nope,” I let out, after swallowing half of what was in my mouth and letting her see the other half, when I grinned, “I’m thethy enough to get away wif it.”
It was a combination of a lack of self-awareness and inattention on my part that had me inhaling a few bits of popcorn into my windpipe, hearing her ask a second later, “Have you ever slept with a bartender?”
Feeling my face flush – I would blame the hacking coughs, if asked under oath – I could only look at her through tear-blurred eyes and shake my head in response.
“Are you fucking with me?” I asked, once I was able to breathe again.
Shrugging, a small smile bloomed on her face as she turned back to face the television and said seriously, “I guess that depends on your answer.”
“What happened to ‘just friends’?” I all but spit out accusingly, while the part of my brain where testosterone ruled the roost, told me to ‘shut the fuck up and go with it’.
We’d been doing this ‘just friends’ thing for going on four months now. It worked for us.
And as much as I wanted to see just how well we worked in naked ways, a part of me was afraid of losing what we already had. Sookie had become one of my best friends and while we shamelessly flirted with each other at times, it was just talk.
It didn’t mean anything.
Turning to look back at me, she tilted her head to one side and not for the first time, I wondered if she really could read minds when she offered, “We can do that and still be friends. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Just having this conversation meant something.
Following through with it would mean something even more.
I would have called bullshit, but in the next moment my mouth was too busy devouring hers to form words.
Feeling the sporadic flutters getting stronger against the length of me inside of her, I knew she was getting close. But knowing her next orgasm would be that much stronger if I made her wait for it, I slowed down just enough to keep her on the edge.
Nowhere near fast enough to push her over it.
“No cheating,” I grunted, pulling her hand out from underneath her body where it was working its way in between her legs.
Trapping both of her wrists at the small of her back with one hand, I stilled inside of her and licked a path up her spine to the back of her neck to teasingly growl, “You’ll get off when I say so.”
“What are you, United Airlines?” she groaned, with it ending in a giggle and making my lips turn upwards against her skin.
I would never get enough of her.
In any capacity.
“It’s not cheating if you don’t come.”
“It’s not cheating if you pay for it.”
“It’s not cheating if they’re unattractive.”
“It’s not cheating if you don’t know their name.”
“It’s not cheating if they can’t get it up.”
Looking over at Sookie, I couldn’t help thinking playing this game with her was a bad idea. Going back and forth, with her reciting excuses she’d heard at the bar and me countering with the things I’d heard other guys say had seemed like a fun way to pass the time.
Now it just seemed like a good way to become maudlin over the dreaded ‘what-ifs’ scenarios running through my mind because I couldn’t help putting myself in the unlucky bastard’s shoes if she’d said the same thing to me.
For the record, it would be cheating, regardless of whiskey dick.
But it would only be cheating if she was actually mine.
We’d managed to avoid the two elephants fucking in the room whenever we were together and hadn’t actually defined what it was we were doing – and had been doing – for the last couple of months.
Which was defiling every surface of her place and mine.
It had been a great couple of months.
But Sookie hadn’t brought it up and not wanting to ruin a good thing – or a sure thing when we got back to her place – I swallowed down my inner whiney bitch and changed the subject by playfully bitching, “I can’t believe you’re making me drive two towns over for water ice.”
“It’s the first day of spring!” she argued back in disbelief. “It’s Rita’s water ice!”
“It’s water. Ice,” I deadpanned in return.
“It’s free on the first day of spring,” she explained as though I was a mental patient. “Free. Water. Ice. From Rita’s.”
Smirking at the riled up look on her face, I added to it by saying, “I don’t care if it’s Elsa’s water ice made from Olaf’s frozen nut sack. It’s a popsicle in a cup.”
Poorly named Marvel series weren’t the only things we watched on Netflix. Sookie had a bunch of Disney flicks she made me watch with her too.
At least once a month, when chocolate was needed for the survival of everyone involved more than air.
Glancing over at her – because I knew for a fact I had another two unfettered weeks before I had to pull Tangled up onto the Netflix queue – I added, “I could’ve just bought you a whole box of them from the supermarket and saved us the trip.”
When killing me dead with her narrow-eyed stare alone didn’t work, her murderous glare eventually turned thoughtful, as she mused, “You just like watching me deep throat phallic shaped items.”
“I like watching you deep throat one phallic shaped item in particular,” I clarified.
I liked feeling it too.
She blew my mind – literally and figuratively – every time.
Smirking, she gave me a look that said I might be getting a repeat performance, if I played my cards right, and I felt myself metaphorically straightening up.
Christ, I had it bad.
So it was no wonder when Sookie managed to use blowing me as her segue to say, “I bet Olaf’s Frozen Nut Sack would be a good seller. They should make it using Nutella, maybe.”
Grinding my teeth, so I wouldn’t out the two elephants fucking in the room – or car, if you wanted to get technical – by making wide sweeping declarations about the only nut sack she was allowed to enjoy was in the seat to the left of hers, I forced it all down into the mental box marked ‘Nope’.
I wasn’t ready.
To find out our little arrangement meant more to me than it did to her.
To give her up.
To lose my best friend, because there would be no going back to the way we were.
Her name was part plea part whine, with my shoulders pressing into the mattress, while I forced my hips to stay still. Her hand was busy stroking the length of my dick, while my eyes searched the back of my skull, looking for any shred of control, feeling her tongue lapping at the head.
Finding the bare minimum, I used it to tease, “This isn’t how you play, ‘Just the tip.’”
Staring up at me from under her lashes, she smirked, “Coulda fooled me.”
Back arched, ass up in the air, and lips swollen from more than just kisses, she somehow managed to look completely innocent, when she blinked up at me and asked, “Want me to stop?”
“God, no,” I moaned out, wrapping her hair in my hands, as though I had any say in the matter.
She was killing me.
It was the best way to go.
“So, you and her are just friends, right?”
I didn’t have to look at Jake to know who he was talking about.
Not when we were both sitting at the bar and Sookie had just wandered away from us to take care of other customers at the opposite end of it.
“I didn’t know you had aspirations to become a eunuch,” I drawled out warningly before taking a sip of my beer.
Sookie and I might not have had the ‘What are we?’ talk yet, but we didn’t need to for me shutdown any ideas Jake may have been entertaining.
My words to him came from a different box marked ‘Nope’ in my mind.
‘Fuck no,’ if you wanted to get technical.
“That’s what I thought,” he laughed before clapping me on the shoulder and getting up to go troll the jukebox.
The last time he’d hung out with me there, he’d played the same Taylor Swift song twenty times in a row.
There was a near barroom brawl by the end of it.
“I had Sam take all of T Swift’s songs out of the jukebox,” Sookie said, sounding suspicious as she walked back towards me with her eyes on Jake. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to Shake It Off.”
“I think he likes you.”
Which was not what I’d meant to say.
My subconscious, however, had other ideas.
Sookie and I had been doing the friends-with-benefits thing for a few months now.
And we’d spent just as many months avoiding the two elephants fucking in the room.
The only thing keeping me on an even keel when it came to The Unknown – capitals fully warranted – was the knowledge that, if anything, our friendship had only grown stronger.
Not to mention the extra amount of cardio I was working into my day did wonders for my ability to chase down a perp on foot.
It was a benefit I hadn’t even known I would be gaining from our arrangement.
But I didn’t know if what we were doing – doing a lot, mind you – was still just that.
A friends-with-benefits arrangement.
Like me, I knew she wasn’t seeing anyone else.
I knew because we spent all of our free time together.
But unlike me, I also knew she was getting hit on nearly every day of the week. It was a job hazard, according to her, and she was right.
Even watching it happen with my own two eyes from time to time, it only ever bothered me when the guy hitting on her didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer.
It bothered me less when she would point me out to them and send them on their way.
But even using me as an excuse, I didn’t know if I was just that.
An excuse, when I wanted to be The Answer.
She never told me what it was she said to those guys.
That I was her boyfriend?
That I was the guy who would kick their ass if they didn’t leave her alone?
Did she know both answers would be true?
I didn’t ask.
I never asked because a part of me still wondered if she had any interest in benefitting from any other friendships.
I would still cripple Jake if him and his dick got within five feet of Sookie, but that didn’t stop me from wondering.
Shrugging her shoulder up on one side, her seeming response to my unintended read-between-the-lines revelation ended with an eye roll before she looked pointedly in his direction and then back to me, as she said, “I gotta take out the trash. BRB.”
Shaking my head with a small grin – because she knew how much I hated spoken text-speak – I got worried when she didn’t come back within the mental time I’d allotted her being gone and found myself wandering out the backdoor in search of her.
Only instead of fending off an assault – or any of the other horrifying images my mind had managed to create in the short walk outside – I found her squatting down on her toes.
“The line for the bathroom isn’t that long,” I snarked, once I could see there wasn’t anything wrong with her.
“Shh,” she scolded and then glanced at me teasingly to add, “You’re usually much more adept when dealing with a kitty.”
“You would know,” I smirked.
But not knowing what in the hell she was talking about – because if she wanted me to get her off right now, this was an odd way of going about it – I looked over to where her eyes had been trained and saw it.
Huddled up next to the dumpster was a small ball of ratty gray fur.
“A rat?” I questioned in disbelief. “You’re trying to coax a rat over to you?”
Giggling softly, she said, “You’re lucky I have firsthand knowledge of just how beneficial you are to our friendship because if you’d called my pussy a rat the first time you saw it, there wouldn’t have been a second time.”
Distracted for a moment at the thought of when I could see it again – now, perhaps – the other part of me was reading in between the lines, wondering if this was her way of reminding me that nothing had changed.
For her, at least.
We were still just friends who fucked each other.
But I was soon pulled back into the moment hearing a soft mew sound coming from the rat.
“You’re going to make me catch it, aren’t you?” I sighed, already resigned to my fate.
“With your ungodly arm span, you can probably catch it from where you’re standing,” she laughed and then nodded, “And once you do, I need you to hit up the twenty-four hour Walmart to get kitty things before taking it back to my place.”
Then looking at me, she added with an arched brow, “And I’m not talking about lube.”
“As if,” my own arched brow returned.
Lubrication was never a problem between me and Sookie.
“Hot,” she breathed out.
Braced up on my forearms, with my eyes locked onto the sight of me thrusting in and out of her, I nodded in agreement while adding, “And wet.”
She knew it, even if she couldn’t see it.
“No,” she giggled and then did some sort of flap flop move with her hands, adding, “Too much hair, not enough air.”
That kind of hot.
Pulling out of her, she groaned again – this time in protest – so I quickly rolled over onto my back and pulled her on top of me, lifting her hips and reinserting myself, earning another moan of appreciation from her.
One hand stayed on her hip, while the other reached over and searched for a hairband in the nightstand, with her staring down at me in glassy-eyed approval, as she said, “That long arm span of yours really is handy at times.”
Finding what I was looking for, I held it up in front of her and winked, “Not just good for catching pussy, is what you’re saying.”
“It’s what I’m saying,” she grinned, using the hairband to keep the knot of hair she’d formed on top of her head in place.
When she finished, she swiveled her hips and stared down at me, ordering, “Now, as you were.”
Running my hands up her rib cage and over her tits, I lightly pinched her nipples and smiled at her responding gasp, agreeing, “Yes, ma’am.”
“I never should’ve had you be the one to coax her out,” Sookie pouted. “She’s like a baby duck, or some shit, and imprinted on you instead of me.”
“It’s not your fault,” I smiled, stroking the now clean ball of fur purring up a storm on my chest. “You may have been born with one, but I have years of experience to know how to handle a pussy just right.”
“Keep it up and that’s the only one you’ll be handling for the foreseeable future,” she warned.
“Lies, Ratatouille,” I stage whispered to the furry monster. “Your mama tells all the lies.”
Reaching over to stroke her back, Sookie sighed when Ratatouille hissed at her before she could make contact. So she glared at me instead and said, “Her name is Snickerdoodle.”
“Did you ever wonder if maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you?” I teased. “Minnie or Jerry would be more fitting. Or Miss Jingles!”
Then rubbing my face against the purr monster, I teased, “We could call her MJ for short.”
“She’s not a rat!” Sookie hissed and then heatedly asked me, “Why do I bother with you, again?”
“Because I’m a stellar lay.”
I eyed her just as heatedly, albeit with a different kind of heat.
Losing the battle to keep the smile from her lips, she turned back to the television with a huff and grumbled. “I hate you.”
“That’ll make for some stellar hate sex later on.”
Curling up against my side, Sookie flipped Netflix on and groused, “Yeah, well…it better be.”
Flipping her over, I forced her body into a prone position beneath mine and slid back inside of her, groaning at the feeling of her becoming that much tighter around me.
Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth to calm myself down, I flipped the loose strands of her hair out of the way and blew a cooling breath against her neck, trailing over the goosebumps rising up on her flesh with the tip of my tongue.
“Er-ic,” she moaned in a hitched breath. “Please…”
“Not yet,” I refused.
Myself or her, I didn’t know who I was denying more.
Nearly sideswiping the parked ambulance, the tires screeched to a halt and I threw the door of my patrol car open, flying into the bar, like a man possessed.
Logically, I knew it had only been minutes since the call for EMT’s to respond to Merlotte’s for an unresponsive female had gone out over the radio, but it felt like a lifetime ago.
Maybe because I saw the lifetime I wanted to have flash before my eyes before going up in a puff of smoke.
Her name was on the tip of my tongue, dying – like the rest of me – to come out, when I heard my name and spun around.
She was standing there.
Hale and whole.
Not a single thing wrong with her.
Her surprised gasp of, “Holy shit!” was cut off and muffled by my body slamming into hers, when I hauled her into my arms and crushed her to me.
It took longer than I cared to admit for my muscles to unlock enough for her to pull back to look up at me. But instead of asking any of the million questions I could see lurking behind her eyes, she seemed to find the answers on her own.
Words and I weren’t speaking at the moment, if you will.
Her expression softened then and she reached up to cup the side of my face, rubbing the pad of her thumb along my jaw while saying in a soothing tone, “I’m fine.”
“I…I thought,” I managed to choke out, unable to finish the sentence.
I’d thought a lot of things.
Things I would probably have nightmares over.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, just as calmly as before. Then, with her lips quirking up on one side, she added, “You’re sweet to have worried about me.”
“I love you!” I barked out.
Good thing the EMT’s were there.
I was likely in the early stages of having a heart attack, hearing the words come out of my mouth.
I hadn’t even known the sentiment was true until my subconscious spit the words out, but there they were.
For the world – within the confines of the bar, at least, excepting the woman who wasn’t Sookie that was just then coming to on the floor by her table – to hear.
And with my arms still locked around Sookie – a fact that didn’t look to be changing anytime soon – she had most definitely heard them.
But unable to read the expression on her face – because I was Freaking The Fuck Out over outing more than just the two elephants fucking in the room – I swallowed hard before rushing out, “I…It…it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Staring back at me, her eyes crinkled as she pulled me down for a kiss, while laughing out, “You’re an idiot.”
And I finally got on board with kissing her back, hearing her mumble into my mouth, “I love you too.”
“I swear, if you even think about stopping, I will annul the shit out of this marriage,” she gasped out warningly.
Considering I was balls deep inside of her at the moment, I’d like to see how she would go about trying to claim we hadn’t consummated our hours’ old vows.
I didn’t need the fingertip shaped bruises I could see forming on her hips to prove it.
She was bathed in my DNA.
Inside and out.
I made sure of it.
Instead of saying any of that, I thrust a little more of my DNA into her body and grunted out with a filthy grin, “Oh, it’s like that now is it?”
Then sitting up on my knees, I pulled her body up with me, with one arm bracing her back and head, while the other hand held her hips in place.
Locking her ankles together at the small of my back, she wrapped her hands around each of my shoulders and threw her head back, moaning out a single word for every thrust of my hips, “Yeah…It’s…like…that.”
“Just like that?” I asked, teasing her clit with my thumb before doing it again with purpose.
It didn’t take long before her body seized on top of mine, with her fingernails digging into my skin and her orgasm pulling mine from me.
Falling over, I managed to stay inside of her when I took her down with me and we laid there, a sticky sweaty mess, trying to catch our breath, when mine caught again seeing her smile at me.
With hindsight telling me, I really was an idiot.
Sookie had been all in for as long as I had, no matter what we hadn’t said out loud at the time.
Christ, I loved her so much.
But instead of telling her that or hearing her say anything of equally sappy value, she laughed – guffawed, really – when I shrieked like a little girl, feeling the claws digging into my bare ass, while I blindly swatted behind me and yelled out, “MJ! No! Bad kitty!”
Still giggling when I dropped MJ down onto the floor, I turned back and watched her wiping the tears from her eyes and I knew – clawed up ass or no – it wasn’t a new job in a new town I’d really wanted all those months ago.
This – she – was exactly what I’d been looking for.