Too Bad So Sad Page 7

  Though, I had a feeling he wouldn’t tell me.

  He wanted to surprise me.

  I bit my lip and waited for whatever it was that he’d do.

  Which, apparently, was rub my panties through my juices so I’d know just how much was there.

  “You want me badly,” he murmured, allowing one thick thumb to trail from my tailbone to my entrance.

  I made a noise in the back of my throat and he chuckled.

  His hands went to the waistband of my panties and he slowly, deliciously, pulled them down my legs.

  One inch at a time until they were dangling from one ankle.

  He left them dangling there and I did, too.

  I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to kick them off, or if he liked them hanging there and I didn’t want him to stop what he was doing. So, I decided to play nice.

  I played the part of the good little girl instead of the devil that normally influenced me.

  Another smack, this one on my left cheek, had me squeaking in surprise.

  Somewhere in between one breath and the next, I felt his cock at my entrance.

  My entire body froze solid and I started to semi-hyperventilate.

  He was big.

  Really, really big.

  Bigger than my vibrator, which I used on a daily basis and way bigger than my ex.

  Of course, Tyler himself was a big man. His hands were huge and the one time I’d looked down and studied his feet, I recall thinking that a man this large would be large in other places.

  But feeling his penis at my entrance? Oh, man. I knew I was going to feel it tomorrow.

  Did I tell him to stop? Did I say this wasn’t a good idea?

  Hell no.

  I was a smart girl.

  I knew that, despite how big he was, this was going to feel really good.

  Hell, it might feel great.

  “You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured.

  I licked my lips. “I’m thinking about how big your cock is and wondering how it’s going to feel when I have to walk miles and miles around the lake tomorrow. Not to mention all the boat riding I’ll have to be doing.”

  He snickered and pushed an inch inside, making my eyes go wide.

  “I imagine it’s going to feel like you’ve been thoroughly fucked.”

  Before I could reply, he buried himself to the hilt and I screamed.

  I tried to get myself under control. Tried to tone it down because I knew for a fact that there were at least seven elderly neighbors who might come over here just to check on me and make sure I was all right.

  But…I didn’t care.

  Didn’t and couldn’t.

  I didn’t because he was doing things to me that I had wanted for a very long time and I couldn’t because he was making it hard to breathe. To draw oxygen into my lungs and form cohesive thoughts.

  He pulled back slowly and I imagined that this was what it felt like when your soul was taken out of your body.

  Sam and Dean from Supernatural had been favorites of mine since the show’s first episode aired. I’ve watched every single episode, on every single season and I watched multiple times as souls were taken from bodies.

  And feeling him withdraw, feeling every inch of Tyler’s cock as it glided out of me at such a slow pace that I nearly cried out in refusal? Yeah, that’s definitely how I imagined the whole soul-leaving-the-body scenario.

  He smoothed his hand down my spine to quiet and comfort me, as I realized that I hadn’t been as quiet as I’d thought I was being.

  Damn, I was glad that my two closest neighbors wore hearing aids.

  “You’re so tight. I have to go slow,” he murmured thickly.

  I swallowed around a lump in my throat, somewhat mollified, at least for the moment, that he was planning on doing other things besides just that one thrust.

  I looked at him over my shoulder.

  His eyes were not on me. They were on my ass, or more likely, where the head of his cock was once again poised at my entrance.

  He was shirtless and his tanned face matched his tanned chest—or at least what I could see of it was. That tanned chest had tattoos all over it.

  I’m not even talking about big tattoos, either. I’m talking about tattoo after tattoo, spanning from his collarbone, just under where his shirt collar would ride, down to his belt. Some of the tattoos—like the octopus—wrapped partially around his side and disappeared into his pants at his waist.

  He had a pirate ship, a gun with a bayonet and boots—it looked like it was a memorial of some sort—and a Japanese Oni/demon.

  Swirls of tribal designs filled the space in between the tattoos and made it all come together into one cohesive collage.

  All, that is, except for one tattoo, right above his heart.

  That was the only spot that didn’t have a single drop of color. It spanned his entire pectoral muscle from nipple to collarbone. It was the only space on his entire torso without ink and my entire hand would likely fit there without touching a single drop of ink.

  My fingers curled into my palm aching to touch that spot, but then he finally stopped jacking around and filled me again, making me forget my own name, let alone that I wanted to touch him.

  I moaned into the couch cushion, not realizing that I’d turned back around again until I found it hard to breathe.

  “Goddamn, you are tight,” he whispered. “I tried to gather control. Tried to tell myself you didn’t really feel as good as I thought you did. Tried to compose what you destroyed…but all it takes is feeling you wrapped around me again and I realize how stupid I really am.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  You’re welcome? I’m sorry?

  I wasn’t sure if I should feel bad or not that he had zero control when it came to me.

  But that thought was fleeting, because he then started to fuck me.

  Hard.

  There was no soft, middle ground with a man like Tyler.

  He was hard, unrelenting and unyielding.

  He fucked me with the same exact determination that extended to everything he did as a person. Why would I think that sex with him would be any different?

  The slap of our flesh had my eyes closing and soon all I could do was experience this moment.

  Feel how he made my body hum as he skillfully pushed into me. Feel how my ass stung with each of his bruising thrusts. Feel how, when he swung his hips toward me, his balls slapped against my most sensitive of flesh.

  He didn’t have to move his hands from my hips at all. Didn’t have to thrum my clit like I would have to do even if something wasn’t inside of me to make me come.

  Nope. All he had to do was fuck me—something he did expertly I might add—and I was there.

  It was a flash of a moment, between one second and the next and I was coming.

  My pussy was clamping down on him and I felt like everything in my world tilted on its axis.

  Nothing felt as good as he felt inside of me.

  Nothing.

  I felt him growl more than I heard it and then he was pulling out of my still clenching pussy to come all over my back.

  I felt the hot splashes of his release hit somewhere between my shoulder blades and knew that had I not been wearing a ponytail, it would’ve been in my hair.

  “I’m on the pill,” I managed to breathe.

  Before his next spurt of cum could hit the skin of my back, he was shoving his way back inside of me and finishing off where he belonged.

  And I couldn’t help but wish every single drop would’ve been planted there—even if only for me to feel his essence inside of me.

  ***

  The next morning, I’d expected more of the same. Only, when I woke up, he was gone.

  Guess he took my words from the night before to heart.

  Couldn’t say that I blamed him.

  ***

  Tyler

  I’
d intended to wake her up and ravish her body all over again, but one glance at the photo on the nightstand and I just couldn’t do it.

  Not with her father’s face there, judging me.

  Getting up, I walked out of her room, got dressed and walked out her door.

  After ensuring that it was locked, I got into my cruiser and didn’t once look back.

  Chapter 7

  As for me and my house, we will serve tacos.

  -Wall hanging

  Tyler

  I knew she was there.

  What I didn’t know was why she was there.

  I watched her for twenty minutes or so unloading bag after bag of mulch. Then she started on flowers.

  It was only when she started taking out the shovels that I got up and walked outside.

  I found her on her hands and knees, tugging weeds out with her bare hands.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to sound as unwelcoming as I could possibly make my voice sound. Even if I was feeling satisfaction that she was actually here, even though I shouldn’t be.

  She wasn’t supposed to be here.

  I’d been serious when I said that what we did could only be the one time, even though I couldn’t stop replaying the sequence of events in my mind.

  Usually me saying what I said would mean that she’d leave me alone.

  Apparently, I was going to have to get meaner.

  “I’m putting in a flower bed,” she answered like it was the most normal thing in the world to do.

  I blinked. “At my house? Go put a flower bed in at your house.”

  She stood up and grabbed the shovel closest to her, then started digging up my grass.

  If I’d been more on my game—and hadn’t been watching her ass and thighs while remembering what they looked like when I had been pounding away inside of her—I might’ve been able to tell her to stop before she’d completely massacred my lawn.

  Instead, I was riveted in place, watching those ass muscles flex with each movement as she stepped down on the shovel. It was only when two huge hunks of grass were gone that I finally snapped out of it.

  “Stop,” I ordered.

  Too late, way too late.

  She smiled at me. “Don’t worry. I don’t want your reimbursement.”

  I snorted. “You weren’t going to get that anyway. I didn’t ask you to come here and I didn’t ask you to do that.”

  I hadn’t. I’d made sure of it, even though I had wanted to call her, to stop by, to stay in her bed all day, every day.

  She rolled her eyes. “I need this for my thesis. I can’t do it at my place because I don’t own it. I won’t do it at Janie’s because I’ll have to talk to her every time I go over there and I don’t want to. I’ll literally only be coming over here to do this. I won’t talk to you. You don’t have to worry that I’ll strip you down and climb on your peenie weenie again. All you have to do is let me come over here to do my thing, leave me alone while I’m doing it and don’t bitch when I leave the sprinklers on a little too long. M’kay?”

  Then she went back to removing the grass.

  And I shrugged.

  Seriously, when she put it that way, I didn’t see the harm in her being here. Especially when I didn’t plan on staying here much longer myself—I had to be at work.

  What I didn’t expect was her to be here all hours of the day and night—for the next three weeks—in nothing but a goddamn tiny piece of fabric that she called a bathing suit.

  Sweating. Moving. Jiggling.

  Making my dick hard.

  Yeah, let’s just say those three weeks were the hardest of my life and I didn’t even realize it.

  It was on day twenty-one that I finally lost my shit.

  I came into the office in a bad mood.

  Katy stood up once she saw me and started to fix me a cup of coffee.

  I waved her off before she could get my mug down. “Don’t. I want something else today.”

  Something stronger that would hide the fact that I might possibly be adding whiskey to it.

  “I can grab you a drink from the Coke machine,” she offered.

  I waved her away. “No.”

  Katy frowned. “Is there something wrong?”

  I thought about that for a moment.

  Was there something wrong?

  Not necessarily.

  My yard was looking better than ever.

  I’d gotten home yesterday to Reagan mowing my grass.

  I’d gone inside, pissed off because she was always at my place when I was at my most vulnerable—like after a hard day at work when I wanted nothing more than to find someone to let me take my bad day out on, preferably in a way that meant I didn’t have any clothes on.

  Yet, I knew that I couldn’t go that route with her.

  I just couldn’t. Morally. Ethically. Physically.

  She was trouble and I didn’t need trouble in my life. I was too old, too set in my ways and unwilling to compromise in any way.

  A girl like her, one so young, who acted like Reagan did? Yeah, there’d be compromises across the board and I just didn’t have the desire to do that.

  I wanted what I wanted and I made no apologies for that.

  And let’s not forget that I knew her father.

  Say Reagan and I did get together. Family get-togethers would be awkward as hell because Bennett knew me. Knew my likes and dislikes and he also knew that I wasn’t easy on my girls.

  Not that any of them had complained or anything. It just was what it was and I liked it rough. Sue me.

  Yeah, so needless to say, it was in everyone’s best interest that I just stay away.

  I could feel my walls encasing my heart shaking each time she got near.

  And this morning, with what she’d been wearing as I walked out the front door? Let’s just say that image of her in those tight-ass unicorn bike shorts, pink tank top and pink ball cap over her messy, unruly, curly hair would be forever burned in my brain.

  There’d been one tendril that had slithered over her shoulder and had curled around her breast and stuck to her sweaty…

  “Chief Cree?”

  I looked over at Katy.

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “I asked if you needed anything,” she repeated her earlier question that I’d apparently missed.

  I shook my head. “If you could make Reagan Alvarez disappear from my life, yes. If you can’t, then no.”

  Katy frowned. “Reagan? What’s wrong with Reagan?”

  I sighed. “Nothing. She’s just driving me nuts. We live really close to each other and she’s using my place in her experiment. Needless to say, she’s there every single morning and I haven’t gotten much sleep.”

  Katy snickered. “That sounds like Reagan. She’s all day, every day. There is no rest for the wicked. She’s been like that since she was a kid, though.”

  Her words caused me to look at her more closely. “You know Reagan?”

  She nodded. “Her dad and mine work together. They’re both on the SWAT team.”

  I thought back to her last name and winced. “You’re Luke’s kid?”

  Katy grinned. “I am.”

  “Shit, small world.” I just shook my head. “I used to work with them quite a bit when I was first out of the marines. They took me under their wing. I was on the SWAT team for about eight months before I transferred over here.”

  Katy smiled. “I remember, actually. You used to come over to our house for team meetings. I was usually out with my boyfriend or friends. But I saw you once or twice in passing.”

  I sighed. “So, do you know Reagan well?”

  Katy nodded. “I do.”

  “Was she always such a bulldozer?”

  Katy snickered. “You have no idea.”

  Unfortunately, she was right. I didn’t.

  Chapter 8

  Apparently, it’s frowned upon to beat a little kid at tic-tac-
toe until they’re crying. Who knew?

  -Tyler to Reagan

  Reagan

  I lifted the lid off the trashcan and tossed the single bag of garbage that I generated this week into the can.

  The movement of the trash hitting the bottom of the can caused the whole thing to rock and a sound emerged from somewhere near my feet that had me jumping back in surprise, using the lid that was still in my hand as a shield.

  I carefully pivoted to look around the trashcans to the left and the right but didn’t immediately see anything. Then I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and I looked between the trashcans. Freezing when a pink tongue came out of the darkness offered by the two tall trashcans, I gasped when the shape of a fuzzy face came into view.

  Ohhhhh!

  I dropped down to my knees and made a kissing noise with my lips, calling out to the small, dark-haired face that I could see hiding there.

  Slowly but surely, the puppy came out, revealing itself to me.

  My heart instantly melted.

  He looked like a big baby, but he was only about ten to fifteen pounds or so and all fluffy fur.

  His face was black, his bulky little body was shades of brown and he had one white paw.

  His eyes were the color of whiskey and I knew that I absolutely had to keep him.

  ***

  I knocked on the super’s door, the old man who ran this cabin rental with an iron fist and knew his answer before I even asked.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t let this little baby go, I had to have him. There was no other option.

  This puppy had to be mine.

  He looked just like my little Bear, our old family dog, who, tragically, was hit by a car when I was around twelve.

  It was a sign from above that he’d been hiding between my trashcans.

  There was no possible way that he wasn’t meant to be mine.

  The moment old man Rockman opened the door, his eyes narrowed on the ball of fur in my arms.

  “No.”

  I opened my mouth to argue. “No. You can’t have a dog here. A, it’s against the owner’s policy. And it’s the owner who makes the rules. Since she’s deathly allergic to dogs and does come by here on a regular basis to inspect the properties, there can’t be one here.”

  My heart instantly fell. “And B?”