He’s buried so far inside me, I think that I can feel him in my stomach.
“Fuck,” he groans again, his hips stilling as he pushes inside me as far as he can. I can feel the moment he lets go, pulsing and filling me with everything that he’s got.
I’m not sure how it happens, but it triggers a second orgasm that is almost as powerful as the first.
He collapses on top of me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
After a few moments, I cough and then gag, my arms dangling limp in the handcuffs.
“Oh my God,” he says, his head jerking up out of my neck as he helps pull the lace from my mouth. I take a deep breath, one I hadn’t realized I needed.“Are you ok, baby?” He asks. His pupils are almost back to normal as he cups my cheeks and his eyes search mine.He searches for the keys, gently undoing the handcuffs and kissing the red marks on my wrists.
“So much more than ok,” I say, feeling the loopy, post sex high take over. A small smile graces my face as I gently run my fingers through his hair.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he whispers, kissing my forehead and my cheek, inspecting my face with his eyes.
“No, I’m ok, I promise. Just needed air,” I say, and he nods.
I let out a whimper when he pulls out of me, feeling emptier than I ever have in my life.We lay in a comfortable silence as we take in what we just experienced.Hair and clothes ruffled, my panties destroyed. Makeup ruined, and all in the back of his squad car.
I giggle. He turns to look at me as if I’ve gone insane.
“I really did just want to surprise you with food,” I say, looking around for the bag.He laughs with me. Both of us just lie here giggling like we’ve gone crazy.
God, this man is going to be my ruin.
I thought seeing him the other night would ease the ache inside of me. That it would make me miss him less. But it has the complete opposite effect.
I don't bother him again for a few more days. Letting him just pour his heart and soul into finding this little girl.
Tuesday evening, the front door opens, and Beckett walks in significantly earlier than I’m expecting.
I’m cooking meat for tacos when Mocha’s paws carry him across the house, his toenails clicking on the ground as he makes a little whimper of excitement to see his dad.
I look at him over my shoulder and offer him a small smile. He looks exhausted, completely drained.
I leave my station at the stove and wrap myself around him. He all but collapses into my arms, clinging to me.
He’s home early, which can only mean one thing.
“Please say that you found her,” I whisper against his chest. He lets out a breath that feels like he’s releasing all the extra weight that he’s been carrying around.
His shoulders shake lightly as he clings to me. I’m not sure if he’s crying or just trembling.
“We found her and brought her home,” he says, lifting his head. When his eyes find mine, they're glassy.
“Oh my God, Beck, that’s amazing,” I say.
He nods. “She’s home, and she’s alive,” he says, and I wrap myself back around him.
“Oh my god,” I say, kissing his cheek. “You saved her.”
“It was a team effort.”
“Oh, stop it, just let me think of you as a big, broody hero for just a moment,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. My comment pulls a little smile from him.“Dinner’s almost done, if you want to lie down on the couch for a minute,” I inform him. He nods and lets go of me, dragging his feet as he flops down onto the couch.
Mocha is right there next to him. I think he might’ve missed him even more than I did. Not that I’m sure that’s possible.
When I finish making dinner, I go over to the couch and look down at him, his eyes closed and his breathing slow. It feels like a crime to wake him up right now, but I’m not sure when the last time he ate was. I know that he’ll regret sleeping on the couch all night.
