“What—”
I shoved the metal barrel into his lips, cutting off the outburst, and chucking that meaty baton across the room. “Shhhhh. Listen. You hear that?”
I allowed the voices to swirl around me, muted in their usual frenzy, but no less powerful and persistent.
“I’m going to fuckin’ kill you, Judas. You know that?” He hissed behind the gun’s metal, trying to reach for me before I danced away to my own song.
I laughed, the sound as lyrical as the loop in my mind.
“That would require a weapon, Liebling, which, unless your cock is being used for mass destruction, looks like you’re fresh out of that.”
I fucking loved the deep rumble of his growls. So low in his throat, it made my skin tingle, like the reverberation of quavering metal.
“Mmm. There’s my good boy. I love it when you growl at me, Baby. Let’s me know exactly how fucking loud you’ll be when I fuck your tight little ass.”
His sounds quieted to my dismay, but I didn’t have time to pout. His big, muscled body was plowing into me—and not in the fun way.
Despite my height, I went down to the damn ground like a sack of potatoes, dust and debris flying up from the impact to float around our faces. He was fast. I didn’t know how long he had been in the police force, but he clearly paid attention in class during takedowns. My throat burned, and the pain made me as hard as a fucking rod.
“Mmmm.” I moaned. “If you wanted to top, you only had to ask. You keep trying your best to get me under you. I love destroying a tight little ass, but I’m not opposed to feeling what your cock can do to mine, Baby Boy.”
The words were a spark to a fragile frame. He smashed into me harder. We fought like two jacked lions tangled in each other. He didn’t hold back punches, and the weakness he so lovingly mentioned was creeping up on me. In my defense, I had legitimately just died, so sue me for being a little off my game.
“I’m. Not. A. Fucking. Boy.”
That’s the word you hang onto? Interesting.
The gun was still in my grip, and despite his tough little love taps, I kept it above his head. He was adorable. ‘Kitten Keep Away’ was my favorite game, and Randall was the bitch black cat you chucked in the bathtub.
“You are going back to the asylum,” he said again, grabbing my wrist with the gun, using both of his hands to force my arm to lower.
I wasn’t as muscular as my brothers. Goliath was a fucking tank, and Roe had a suburban dad bod that rivaled his lawn-mowing neighbors.
Their homes made me fucking itch. So perfectly placed and out of a Stepford Wives Catalog. Both of them were nothing but soft pussy whipped little bitches prepared to bark when the females demanded it. I would never be like that. I’d die before I…loved someone.
Maybe it was because Randall was my favorite play toy, or maybe because I had so much pent-up aggression, I was bouncing on my heels with each dancing step. The interest in our game was fading. Randall wouldn’t tire until he got the upper hand, and as exhausted as my ass was, it wouldn’t be long. I needed something to charge my battery.
I slipped my foot out, catching my cop’s leg and feeling the floorboards bitch under his intense load of muscle as he fell to his knees. His surprise was all over his face, and I grinned. My breath was ragged, and our bickering lasted longer than my physical state probably should have allowed.
“What the fuck?”
I tsked again, stepping on the back of his legs and keeping him immobile, the gun upright by his pretty brown eyes. His defiance and need to keep fighting were admirable, reminding me of myself, which was a gold star for you, Randy Pandy.
“Ya know you use that mouth so often to bark orders,” I said, trying to catch my breath as he watched me hesitantly, avoiding sudden movements, not knowing if I’d pull the trigger or not.
Can someone live with a bullet in the eyeball?
“You are goin’ back to the asylum, inmate,” I mocked, imitating the cop’s deep, stick-up-the-ass accent.
“Welp, Baby Boo,” I popped him lightly on the nose with the gun’s tip with each word. “Judie. Don’t. Want. To.”
I popped him lightly on the nose with the gun’s tip with each word.
Randall clenched his jaw, and I wanted to fucking lick that pulsing tick. I leaned down next to his face. “You know what I do want, Baby Boy?”
That wicked mouth spat blood in my direction. “I don’t fucking care what you want.”
I stayed perfectly still, letting it fall on my face so I could lick it off. His heated gaze followed each swipe of my tongue. Our breathing was so heavy and ragged in the silence of the space now.
