Havoc Page 20

  Standing in front of the fridge, looking for something for dinner, I hear Holden stomping up the front porch.

  “Hey babe,” he yells as he comes into the house.

  “I’m in the kitchen.”

  Turning to brace my hands on the island and watch as he crosses the threshold, I inhale sharply at the look of the man before me. Normally before he enters the house, he disarms, takes off most of his work stuff and stores it in his truck, but today he hasn’t done that. He’s standing in front of me, wearing his bulletproof vest, badge, and cuffs. I’m not sure where the gun is, and I can’t bring myself to care. My eyes flitter down to the cuffs hooked at his side.

  “Something wrong?” he questions, raising a brow.

  I debate for a full minute if I should say what’s running through my head. But the two of us? We’ve made huge strides in being honest with each other, and this is just another form. “The day you arrested me.” I tilt my head, eyes focused on those cuffs, bottom lip between my teeth before I let it go. My fingers are caressing the countertop, as they slide to the edge, gripping it. “I wondered what it would be like for you to use those cuffs in a sexual manner.”

  “In a sexual manner?” his eyes widen with surprise.

  “Yeah, like you cuffing my hands behind my back.” I stop. It’s hot as hell in here.

  When he looks at me this time, his eyes are hazy, lids heavy with desire. “And fucking you from behind?” he finishes for me.

  “Just. Like. That.”

  A smirk lifts at the edges of his mouth, those lips of his I love curving into a bad boy smile, as he comes around the island to stand behind me. “Want me to do it right?” He asks as he leans in to whisper in my ear.

  Immediately my body tightens, every single piece of flesh, every bit of muscle. I nod, not trusting my voice.

  “Alright baby, first I’ll have to frisk you, ya know? Make sure you don’t have anything that can hurt me.”

  The heat in the kitchen goes up a thousand degrees as I stand there. Waiting. Anticipating. Literally dying inside. Wondering what the hell he’s going to do next. The palms of his hands move down my tank-top, pulling it up and over my head. The noise is loud in the room as he drops it to the floor.

  “The bra I’ll deal with.” He’s back in my ear again.

  Standing in front of him with bare feet and him in the combat boots he wears most days increases the difference in our heights exponentially. I feel small and dwarfed by him, but I think that’s more the point than anything. Using his feet, he kicks mine apart, widening my stance.

  “Hands on the counter, Leighton.” His voice is sharper, more forceful than he normally uses with me. It causes my hair to stand on end, my body to respond to the tone.

  I press them harder against the cool surface, spreading my legs, and sticking my ass out, because I think that’s what he wants. As he runs his hands down my body, cupping my tits, and then pushing his palms down my stomach, before running them along my thighs, I almost lose my footing. Just when I think I can breathe again, he puts his hands over the top of mine, and pulls them behind my back, clicking the cuffs in place.

  Pulling me back with his hands on the metal, my body brushes against his, letting me know just how turned on he is. Leaning down, he kisses me on the neck, before moving that sinful mouth of his up to my ear. “Is it too tight? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I test my bonds. “No, it’s good.”

  “I have to know before we get going. What do you want?”

  I lower my head, letting my chin touch my chest. “I don’t want sweet. I don’t want you to hold back. That night you arrested me I was pissed off, and I wanted to tear your clothes off because all I could think about was how hot you were.”

  He inhales sharply. I can imagine the look on his face, the flare of his nose. He pulls my hair up in his hands, licking the back of my neck before he lets it fall and grabs hold of the metal holding the cuffs together. He pushes, but not hard enough for me to fall, just enough so that I feel myself teetering, directing me to the bedroom.

  Just before I reach the bed, he stops us, standing there, but not touching me yet. I’m dying for the touch, want to feel his hands on my flesh. “Touch me, please,” I beg.

  With those words, he pulls us so that we’re crowded against each other, running both his hands up and down my body. His palms roughly cup my breasts, pressing against the tight skin. They feel heavy as he pushes the lace down, gripping my nipples in between his thumbs and forefingers, working them rough and hard. I’m pressing back against his length, grinding against the hardness. “Fuck me, Havoc.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  One of his hands leaves my body; I can feel him unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down around his hips. The other hand, moves down mine, doing the same for me. I reach back with my still cuffed hands and cup his erection the best I can. The guttural groan I’m rewarded with is enough for me to lean forward, pressing my cheek to the bed, arching so we can connect.

  He lifts me with his hands around my waist, pushes me toward the pillows, helping me get one under my face before he layers his front over my back, sticks a hand around my hip, flicks my clit, and then presses against me. I can’t grasp for anything, can only lie there as he pushes in, pulls out, and it’s the best sex I’ve ever had. I’m able to give my body completely over to him. I can feel Holden losing control as he roughly grabs hold of my hip and slams deep.

  “Don’t hold back, let me feel what you feel,” I throw back over my shoulder. “Oh God,” I groan as he does just what I’ve asked him to do.

  Minutes pass, or it could be hours, as he plays my body like an instrument. The orgasm, when it hits me is unexpected, as is the feeling when he withdraws, coming all over my back.

  As I lay face down, him beside me, I realize I can’t feel my arms anymore, but at the same time it’s the best thing in the world. I start giggling, turning my face over so I can see him. When our eyes meet, his are warm with love and worry.

  “Don’t worry,” I assure him as he goes to get the keys to the cuffs. “I loved this as much as I love you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Havoc

  “Last night was fun,” I growl into Leighton’s ear as she stands at the counter, grabbing coffee this morning.

  “It was fun,” she agrees, turning around to put her arms around my neck.

  I hold her there for a long time.

  “Maybe we could do that again? You know that putting my hands behind my back with your cuffs?” Her face is red as she buries it in my chest.

  “You like that?”

  “I did.” Her voice is muffled.

  “Fuck.” The word is ripped from my throat. “I’m going to think about that all day today.”

  “Trust me,” her brown eyes glance up at me, “I’m going to be thinking about it, too.”

  Leighton

  Stella and I are slowly making our way up main street from where we’ve been playing at the park. Whitney had a meeting, and asked me to watch her. Violet’s been working half-shifts the past couple of days, and sent me off with an encouraging smile, telling me she had to watch the place by herself at some point. Which leads me to where we are right now.

  “You thirsty?” I ask her. It’s still a mile before we get back to The Café, and it’s a scorcher today. We’d taken some bottles of water with us, but we’d drank them dry about thirty minutes ago. I know if I’m thirsty, she probably is too.

  “So hot,” she pushes her hair out of her face from where she stands next to me, as she nods.

  “I know, Stellbelle,” I pull us into the shade of a building’s awning, reaching into her diaper bag to see what I can find. “Oh yeah, here we go,” I grab out a hairbrush and a ponytail holder. Having a seat on the sidewalk, I motion for her to stand in front of me. “Let’s get that hair up off your neck, you’ll feel better.”

  She turns her back to me, patiently waiting while I pull her thick, darkening hair u
p into a ponytail and secure it with the holder I found. “Better?” I stick the stuff back in the diaper bag and stand up, placing her on my hip. She likes to walk on her own, but we’ll get to the store sooner if I carry her.

  “Yeah,” she nods, hugging her arms around my neck, laying her red cheek against my shoulder.

  “Let’s get out of this heat,” I hoof it quicker.

  Within minutes we’re in the Quick Mart, and I’m thanking sweet baby Jesus for air conditioning. “Hey Myra,” I wave to the older lady behind the counter. She’s a regular in The Café.

  “Hey Leigh, what are you and Stella doing?”

  “Dying in this heat. We need some water,” I joke as I put Stella down on the ground and watch as she runs back to the water and juices. She grabs a bottle of water, and her favorite juice out of the cooler, jerking the bottle open, sitting down in the aisle and drinking it dry.

  “I think she was thirsty,” Myra laughs, as we watch her going into the cooler and grab another one.

  “I think so too,” I laugh along with her.

  Walking back to where she sits against the cooler, I bend down. “That bottle of water for me?”

  She nods, still sucking on the juice. I reach down, grabbing, and popping the seal on it. Just like she did, I drain the bottle, before reaching in and getting another. As she and I are enjoying our drinking party, the bell above the door rings. I get a weird feeling when I see Myra’s ex-husband, Dale walk in.

  “What are you doing here?” Myra stands up straighter behind the counter, glaring at him.

  “It’s hot, in case you haven’t noticed, and I’m thirsty,” he walks to the opposite side of the cooler from where we sit, grabbing a six-pack out. From where I stand, I can smell the alcohol coming off him.

  “I’m not selling you that, Dale,” she threatens.

  “Didn’t say I was buying it. I figure since you got this place in the divorce, you can afford to give it to me.”

  “You can’t steal it!”

  “I can, honey bunches,” he taunts her. “Just watch me,” he nods at me and Stella as he gets a bag of chips, some donuts, and a package of toilet paper. “At least allow me the decency of being able to wipe my ass,” he holds up the package at her.

  A smile plays against my lips as I watch this, but I can see Myra is starting to fume.

  “I’ll call the cops, Dale.”

  “Go ahead, I don’t care,” he shrugs as he continues filling the basket he’d grabbed on his way in.

  I pick Stella up and we walk over to where Myra has a few tables set up for some of the old timers who like to play the lottery and drink gas station coffee. No matter what happens, I want us to stay out of the way. As I see Myra with her cell phone to her ear, I have a feeling we’re going to be here for a little while longer.

  “The police are on their way, Dale. Put the stuff back and get out of here.”

  “You’re gonna call the police on me for taking a few items, that rightfully should be mine? I put up the money for it, added on that addition with my own bare hands. If I wanna take some beer and some toilet paper to wipe my ass, I should be able to do that.”

  “The divorce settlement says you can’t,” she fires back at him.

  I hear police sirens in the distance, and breathe a sigh of relief. The car parks at the front door, and Lord help my heart when Holden hops out, wearing his authority, his uniform, and his badge. I reach in, grab that bottle of water, and drink it down. This situation just got a lot hotter and I’m watching with rapt attention.

  Havoc

  I’m riding by myself today, which I haven’t done since Tank was injured. My mind keeps going back to what happened last night with me and Leighton. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, the way she gave herself to me, the way she trusted me with those cuffs. Fuck, I’m hard thinking about it right now.

  “Holden, we have a nine-one-one call from the Quick Mart.”

  Shit. “Myra and Dale?”

  “Affirmative. You wanna take it? You’re the closest,” dispatch shares with me. This couple will never stop arguing over anything. “Yeah, show me as responding. Mark me as arriving, I can see the Quick Mart from where I am.”

  I see Dale inside, as soon as I park the squad car. Walking inside, I take stock of my surroundings, seeing Leighton and Stella sitting back at the table area. They seem to be comfortable and not scared. I offer my wife a smile, waving at Stella.

  “Daddy!” She squeals, and that word kicks me in the gut. She knows her Dad wears clothing like this, and from far away, it’s probably kind of confusing to her. But there’s a piece of me that wants to explore that word at some point. Never before have I wanted to do that.

  I watch Leighton grab her as she tries to run towards me. Leaning down, she says something in Stella’s ear, causing her to giggle and bury her face in Leighton’s shoulder. Turning my attention back to the problem at hand, I question Myra.

  “What’s going on?”

  “He’s stealing stuff and won’t leave,” Myra points at him.

  “She won’t let me have my beer and my toilet paper. You know she stuck it to me in the divorce, I should be able to come in here and get what I want, since I have no more income,” he argues.

  While I kind of agree with him, that’s not what the law states. “Dale, you and I both know that’s theft.”

  “Bullshit, Holden.”

  “Put it back, and you can leave with a citation. Will that be acceptable to you?” I ask Myra.

  “I want a no contact order with this place,” she starts. “But I won’t press charges for theft if he puts it back.”

  “No contact?” He starts to spout off.

  I put my hand up in front of him. “You’ll need to go down to the station and go before the judge on that. I’m not getting in the middle of it. Dale, put the shit back, and get out of here.”

  “The hell I will, Holden.”

  Fuck me, he’s gonna make me arrest him. “I’m giving you two minutes to put it back, Dale. If not, I’m taking you into custody.”

  “I wanna talk to the supervisor, Holden.”

  Placing my feet further apart on the floor, I put my hand on my gun, rolling my eyes. “Dale, you now I’m the damn supervisor. Put the merchandise back, or I will arrest you.”

  “Good luck,” he gives me a flippant wave as he turns to leave.

  I’ve had enough. Grabbing him around the collar of the shirt, I drag him around, knocking the merchandise basket to the ground, pushing him up against the counter. “Hands on the counter, Dale. You’re under arrest,” I put my leg in between his, kicking his feet out, as I search him for weapons.

  “You got anything on you?”

  “Fuck you, Holden, this is uncalled for. You know I don’t have anything.”

  Ignoring him, I start reading him his rights, snapping the cuffs at his back. Turning my head, I see Leighton watching me with interest in her eyes. “See you at home tonight, gorgeous, maybe we can have a repeat of last,” I wink as I push Dale through the door and load him into my police car.

  Our eyes meet as I look back through the plate glass of the store, seeing her and Stella sitting there. She mouths I love you to me, and I know no matter what I have to do with my job, what she and I have is completely solid. It’s the best feeling in the world, because I know the day is coming when I’ll be taking her dad down, and I know now, she’ll understand.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Leighton

  “I’m so excited!” Blaze literally bounces in the seat next to me as I navigate Holden’s truck through traffic. Normally I hate driving it, but tonight I’ll make an exception.

  “Me too,” I mumble as I try to jockey for position in the VIP entrance line.

  Holden and Tank surprised us two days ago with tickets to a Brantley Gilbert concert. Both of us had been under the impression it was sold out, but the guys had been tapped to work, and had gotten free tickets for their service.

  “This guy’s going
to let you over,” Blaze waved back at the person behind them, flashing them a smile and the horns.

  “Thank you!” I yell through the window, appreciating someone not being a douchebag.

  The person directing traffic at this portion of the parking lot sees the pass Holden hung on his mirror before he and Tank left, and motioned me to another line, that was less crowded. “Holy shit,” I sigh. “This is worse than driving in rush hour in Birmingham.”

  “People wanna see the man,” Blaze takes a drink of her water, winking. “I mean who doesn’t wanna see the man?”

  “He is pretty hot,” I agree, but then my gaze recognizes someone standing a few feet away from us, checking ID’s and waving cars through. “But fuck if my husband isn’t a little hotter when he’s dressed in uniform.”

  Holden and Tank stand with another man, waiting for what looks to be a large tour bus go through. Tank must say something funny because Holden and the other guy laugh. And it’s the laugh of Holden’s that I love. He throws his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  “They are pretty hot, aren’t they?” Blaze whistles through her teeth as she gazes at our guys.

  Hot doesn’t even begin to describe it. My perusal starts at the bottom of his booted feet, past the black cargo pants that hug his legs just right. He folds his arms over his chest, which pulls his shirt up slightly at the waist. I want that shirt to rise up further, to see the ridges of his abdomen, the lean muscle of his torso, but the bulletproof vest he wears with Security on it stops the upward climb of the material. Sunglasses cover his eyes and a hat turned backwards on his head, makes him look like the twenty-something bad boy he probably was at that time in his life. He brings his hand up to his chin, rubbing at his beard, as he turns to his left, seeing us. The moment he sees us, his smile spreads across his face, he hitches his chin at Tank, pointing towards us, and begins a loose-legged swagger-filled strut over to his truck.