✎﹏﹏

Half his chest is submerged under the water, leaving the thickest part of the hair there in view. A gold chain you’d helped his daughter Jenny pick for him a few years ago dangles around his neck. It shimmers in the low light of his kitchen shining warm gold onto his back deck from the sliding glass door. A hint of dark stubble lines his sharp jaw with specks of grey dusting the underside, just like the silver that’s weaved itself into the sides of his chestnut hair.

Holding your gaze down the slope of his nose, he leans further back into the jets, spreading his arms wide along the ledge. Thick biceps sit on display for you making your thighs search for each other under the water and when his tongue darts out to wet his full lips, you wonder if he can tell.

God, you shouldn’t be looking at your best friend’s dad like this, and he most definitely shouldn’t be looking at you like this. The unmistakable hunger that’s simmered under the surface for years burns in the narrowed darkness of his eyes, daring you to make a move.

For a while you thought it was only you — just a college girl with a crush. But you felt something shift after graduation a couple years ago. The crazy idea that it might be mutual started last year during the fifth Christmas you’d spent with the two of them. It was the way his gaze lingered a little too long, or how he found ways to touch you or place a hand on the small of your back.

Christmas Eve was when you knew for certain though. Jenny had ditched both of you for an early night in her bed, still getting over the cold she’d brought with her. Too much wine led to flirty words and light touches on his couch with A Wonderful Life on in the background. It wasn’t until his hands got bolder, and you got closer that he stopped it abruptly. Gently pushing himself away from you before mumbling that he needed to go to bed.

Just like tonight.

Except instead of wine, it was after dinner celebratory bourbon shots for Jenny’s new job offer in the city. The tension from a year ago was still so palpable in his small kitchen that there was a part of you that worried she would somehow notice too. Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off your exposed legs after you’d all gone upstairs to change into something cozy. The small sleep shorts you’d pick out with purpose doing exactly what you’d hope they would. It was enough to give you a bold kind of confidence that had you holding his gaze from under your lashes every time you caught his stare. Relishing in the way it made his cheeks redden.

An unmistakable weight of disappointment bruised your ego when he excused himself to bed first, and it had you finding an excuse to do the same after about an hour or so of hanging out with Jenny. Tossing and turning for two nearly hours still too worked up to actually fall asleep. You’d given up trying, snatching your swimsuit out of your suitcase and headed down to the Jacuzzi.

The strong jets had instantly soothed your wound up muscles, feeling so good that you took the risk of taking your bikini top off, letting it float to the bottom. It was then that Steve appeared in nothing but a pair of short hemmed black swim trunks with seemingly the same plan as you. Despite the internal conflict painting the handsome features of his face, he still joined you, and that bruise on your ego lightened a hue.

“I thought you were going to bed?” You hum, with the kind of fake nonchalance you’ve never been more proud of. The tips of your fingers gliding along the top of the water.

“Tried too.” He answers with a gravel in his voice that goes straight to your core. “Too wound up.”

“Good thing you have a jacuzzi then, huh?” You tease, biting into your bottom lip to hide your smile, playfully sliding forward in your seat from the buoyancy.

The new position reveals the swell of your breasts, and the lack of top covering them. Steve inhales sharply at the sight, scratching his clicking jaw before running that same hand through his unruly hair.

“Yeah, good thing.” He grunts with sarcasm, that swooping strand flopping back over his forehead with damp ends.

His eyes are hungry, taking in all the newly exposed skin with the kind of want that makes you squirm. Sticking his tongue into the side of his cheek, he grabs his glass, taking another sip of the brown liquor with an unwavering stare. This kind of need feels all consuming and it unfurls deep in your gut, despite how wrong this is.

The realization of it has you closing your eyes leaning back against the small headrest behind you, fighting with your self-control. Just his presence has your body thrumming, an effect he’s shamefully had on you since the first summer you came home with Jenny nearly six years ago.

“Topless in someone else’s home hardly seems appropriate, don’t you think?” he asks, voice nothing but spiced honey demanding your attention back.

“I thought I was going to be alone.” You shrug, lifting your head to meet his gaze, desperately trying to keep up this nonchalant ruse despite the tightening in your chest.

All Steve does is hum, taking another sip of bourbon before setting the glass down.

“D- does it bother you?” You question quietly, the facade slipping for a brief moment as your anxiety makes you wonder if you’ve read this all wrong.

His gaze drops to the bubbling water, torture pinching his eyebrows together before finally giving you an answer.

“It should.”

The weight of his confession hangs in the air, thick like the steam.

“Does that bother you?” He asks in return, still not meeting your eyes.

“It should.”

Those two whispered words threaten to change everything.

Steve finally lifts his head, running another wet hand through his hair and god you wish it was your own. The silence that falls between you charges the space with something electric. It sends your body buzzing, overheating you in the already hot water. The pang of guilt that hits your chest fights you to care and just walk away before it’s too late. But then Steve’s jaw clenches again as you watch the last bit of his resolve slip away taking yours with it.

“It’s kinda hot in here, isn’t it?” You say a little out of breath, stomach swooping feeling him track your every movement.

“Need me to turn down the heat?” He asks in a concerned tone that sounds too casual after what’s just been admitted outloud.

“No, I’m okay.” You brush him off, holding his gaze that’s just as dark as the sky above you, your palms finding the slippery edge of the jacuzzi.

Giving yourself a push, you slowly lift yourself out of the water. The cool night air hitting your wet skin, chilling the droplets of water that slowly drip down your chest. It sends a shiver up your spine, pebbling your nipples, and blowing out his pupils.

“Fuck, honey.” He groans, running a hand down his face before letting out a shaky breath. “We shouldn’t —“

“We shouldn’t, what, Steve?” You whisper, leaning back with palms flattening on the wood of the deck, putting yourself on display.

Your heart thumps so wildly in your chest that you can hear it over the roar of the jets. He holds your gaze with an intensity of someone who’s desperately trying not to look at something they shouldn’t. Swallowing hard, his adam's apple bobs before he finally gives into temptation, bringing his eyes to your pert nipples standing at attention just for him.

“You know what.” He sighs sounding tortured, rolling his neck, his resolve dissipating just like the bubbles that hide the bottom half of him.

Steve stands up, the movement sending panic coursing through you because you’re half expecting him to walk away and save you both from a huge mistake. But he doesn’t. Instead, he starts to close the space between you making you forget how to breathe.

Water and leftover bubbles drip down his chest, matting the dark hair there. The soft muscles of his stomach twitch with moles you hadn’t seen before dotted like the constellations on his cheeks and neck. The urge to find them all with your mouth is so strong it almost hurts.

“Do I?” You ask, chest heaving as your thighs press together at the sight, making his jaw click again.

He stops in front of you, chlorine and the leftover amber from his cologne taking over your senses.

“Sweetheart.” He sighs with a hint of condescension, those big hands finding purchase on your slick thighs, spreading them back open with embarrassing ease.

“Steve.” You whisper his name in the same tone.

He doesn’t say anything as he drops to his knees on your empty submerged seat, the new position putting him at eye level with you. His face is so close to yours that you can smell the sweet caramel of the bourbon still lingering on his breath. Crows' feet crease at the edges of his forest colored eyes, while his big wet hands slide further up your thighs. The tips of his fingers tickle your damp skin before finding the edges of your swim suit bottoms.

“You should tell me to stop.”

He tries doing the right thing one more time, squeezing harshly at the fat under his palms. Glazed over eyes watching the way they jiggle back in place. You can’t find your voice, so instead you spread your legs wider.

”Jesus.” He breathes, the deft ends of his nails digging into your soft skin.

His fingertips follow the seam of your bottoms, till they curl under the fabric next to the place that screams for his attention. A shaky breath slips from between your lips, needing more of him. The pads of his thumbs trace over your covered slit, groaning to himself every time they slide over your swollen clit and your legs shake in response.

“Oh my god.” You whine, watching how his eyes darken, feeling a different kind of wetness grow underneath his thumbs.

“You really want this, huh?” He drawls, something treacherous hidden in his question.

Looking up at you from under his lashes, Steve swipes pointedly against your bundle of nerves now.

“Y-yes.” You manage with hooded lids, hips rolling, meeting the next glide of his thumbs.

Pressing his forehead against yours, the whisper of your name sounds pained. The heat of his breath fans against your lips that part trying to breath him in as Steve’s eyes pinch shut, his grip on your wet bottoms tightening. His thumbs disappear bringing his fingers to curl around the thin scrap of fabric at your hips.

When his gaze finally meets yours again, there’s not a hint of color left in his eyes sending another shiver up your spine. Then, without warning, he roughly tugs up both sides. Gasping his name, the damp fabric between your legs spreads your glistening puffy lips apart.

“God, look at you.” He hums appreciatively, tugging up the material even harder. “So wet for me, honey.”

Your fingers curl around the edge of the hot tub, jaw going slack. The pressure feels painfully good against your clit, your body craving more of whatever this is. A deep moan rumbles from his chest as he starts moving the thin fabric in time with the grind of your hips. Completely enraptured by the way your slick grows for him.

“So fucking dirty, honey.” He chides, giving one last tight pull before finally letting go.

The loss of contact leaves your chest heaving, but before you can protest, he invades your space. Bullying his way deeper between your legs, they open even more, thighs pressing against each side of his torso. Steve’s hands grip your hips, pulling you even closer to the edge.

His top lip catches against your bottom in an almost kiss, the coarse hair on his chest tickling the most sensitive part of you. Grinding against it, you have no control over your body anymore because every nerve ending in it screams for him. Something that resembles a growl rumbles loud from his chest, vibrating against your clit, his bruising hold encouraging you to do it again.

“You want this too, don’t you?” You manage to get out with another roll of your hips, mouth brushing with his around every word. You’re positive you could cum like this.

“If you knew just how bad, I think you’d run far away from me.” He admits in a tone that goes straight between your legs. Gripping your hips impossibly tighter, his mouth hovers right above yours in another silent dare.

Finally pushing your hands off the ledge, you bury them in his hair, fingers curling in the damp thickness at the nape of his neck. It’s something you’ve imagined doing thousands of times, and it's somehow softer than you could have ever dreamed up.

Running the tip of your nose along the sharp length of his, all you whisper is —

“Show me.”

Those words are enough for his self control to finally crumble, closing the space with a bruising press of his lips. It takes you a moment to realize that you’re getting everything you’ve ever wanted before quickly catching up to him. There’s a desperation in the way your mouths move together, like this it.

Because it is. It has to be.

He licks into your mouth with animalistic need and you meet him in the middle with equal intensity. Desperately trying to commit this moment to memory. The rough patch of hair on his chest catches your clit again in something that feels so dirty. Whimpering into his grunt, water laps at his waist, spilling over the ledge as he bends his spine to push up against your heat with every one of your shallow thrusts.

You pull away with his full bottom lip between your teeth bringing him with you before letting him go with a loud pop. He doesn’t waste any time gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your head to the side to kiss and nip a path up your neck. His tongue pokes out to lick the dip behind your ear, teeth biting your lobe into the heat of his mouth, sucking hard.

“Fuck — Steve.” You whine, eyes rolling in the back of your head feeling them scrape against it.

”I need to taste you, let me taste you.” He whispers against your ear, his nose pressing into the sensitive spot behind it.

His breathing sounds desperate as short quick bursts of air fan down your neck, and even though his chest heaves, he never stops pushing it into your throbbing cunt.

“Please, I’ve - I’ve — “ Begging, you lose your train of thought, feeling everything inside of you start to pull taut.

It’s too much. All those years of your hand between your thighs thinking of nothing but him has you already dangerously close to falling over the edge. Not even with the weight of what’s between his legs that you haven’t touched yet, just the thick patch of hair that’s always tortured you peeking out of the top of his shirts.

”You’ve what, baby?” He murmurs against your skin working his way down your throat, perfect teeth nipping the base of it.

Baby.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” You manage around a gasp, letting his salt peppered hair slip through your fingers as he sucks your nipple into his warm mouth.

One of his big hands comes up to cup your other breast, massaging it under his palm. His tongue flicks against your sensitive nipple in quick succession, rolling it between his teeth before licking his way to the other one using the same amount of care. Framing your ribs in his hands, he starts a wet path down your sternum once he’s satisfied, looking up at you from under his thick lashes. He sinks his body deeper into the water, letting his chest drag down with him leaving you with nothing to chase the high you were so close to reaching.

“How long?” He presses, his hands following him, caressing the curves of your body along the way.

His long fingers curl around the sides of your swim suit bottoms again, only this time instead of tugging them up, he pulls them down. Leaning back on your elbows, you help him by lifting each leg that ends up propped on his broad shoulders once he drops the offending fabric in the water just like your top. He regrips the fat of your thighs, pulling himself closer to where he begged to taste. Completely exposed, there’s nowhere to hide anymore but watching the way his pupils swell at the sight in front of him, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Since that first summer.” You confess with a shiver, feeling the heat of his breath wash over your cunt.

The blunt ends of his nails dig into your soft flesh at that answer.

“You went so long without getting what you wanted. Let me fix that, honey. Let me make you feel good.” He murmurs, running his nose along your inner thigh, inhaling deeply before pressing a kiss dangerously close to where you need him most.

“Please - please - I need - I” You pant, becoming non coherent staring down at him between your legs like this.

”I know, I know.” He hums softly, dragging his lips lazily to your dripping honey.

His mouth hovers, holding your heavy lidded gaze in his own before flattening his tongue, running a broad stripe up your seam. Throwing your head back, you have to slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out when he does it again with more pressure. A moan rumbles from the back of his throat, regripping your thighs like they’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground before burying his face into your needy cunt without abandon.

He collects everything you give him like he’s greedy and doesn’t want to share, tongue dipping into your entrance so gently, teasing the velvet of your walls so softly that it has your hand burying itself in his hair again silently encouraging more. He smiles into your wet neediness, loving how your hips roll in desperation.

“I wanna take my time, honey.” He chastises you, nudging your clit with the tip of his long nose. “I’ve waited a long time, too.”

His words wash over you like a current, sending another wave of arousal leaking out of you. Cussing under his breath, he wastes no time lapping it up with a satisfied hum.

”Just don’t - just don’t stop.” You whine, looking down wishing you could take a picture of him like this.

You need to memorize how his unruly hair hides your fingers buried in the thickness of it, making him look more disheveled than you’ve ever seen. Or the way you shine on his full twisted up lips and stubble covered chin while his heavy lidded eyes stare up at you blissed out like he’s wanted this for five years too.

“I can’t promise I’ll ever be able to stop after this.” He admits to something deeper than what you meant. “You’re going to have to be the one to do it.”

“I can’t promise I will.” You whisper, chest rising and falling with anticipation, admiring how your answer has his lashes flutter, kissing the tops of his cheeks.

The air crackles around you with something that you’ll never be able to go back from. Something you both know you should never do again, but this it’s starting to feel like a little more than just one night thing, even though it can’t be. Steve inhales deeply, like he's fighting everything in his body telling him to stop, but the sight of you spread and dripping just for him is enough to forget the rest of his morals he had left.

Tugging you closer, Steve plants an open mouthed kiss on your swollen clit, sucking it hard enough for your jaw to go slack, and your eyes to roll back. The way his tongue explores every inch and crevice of you at the same time feels like he’s unhinged his jaw. It’s almost overstimulating having his mouth all over the place like this, lapping up everything so intensely that his head moves up and down. He nips at your clit before soothing it with a soft swipe of his tongue, doing it again feeling how it makes your legs shake and squeeze around him.

His iron clad grip opens your thighs a little more, the whites of his knuckles making sure you don’t go anywhere before finally licking into your entrance. Pulling harshly at his roots, your back bows off the ground, teeth digging into your bottom lip to keep from being too loud. Completely sitting up with your legs over his shoulders, your other hand rejoins the one in his hair. You use it as leverage to grind your hips in time with the thrusts of his tongue that reaches places you didn’t even know existed.

He moans into you, feeling the way your soft walls beg him for more, like what he’s giving you is far from enough. Losing himself, he pushes his face even deeper, the tip of his nose putting the right amount of pressure on your clit for you to gasp his name. The new position has it swiping against your bundle of nerves with every lick, making it harder and harder to stay quiet. Especially when your noises encourage him more.

A growl rumbles low from his chest, fingers digging into your thighs when he feels your legs start to shake. Your needy walls pulsing around his muscle letting him know that you’re close. Rolling your hips against his face with the intensity of someone who’s completely lost herself, the sound of the jets drowns out the wet slapping your ass makes on the edge of the hot tub

“Steve, Steve, Steve.” You whine, eyes pinching shut everything in your body pulling tighter than before.

The sound of his name like that has him groaning, sucking harshly at your cunt before pulling away to catch his breath. Two thick fingers replace his tongue leaving you no time to notice the loss, stretching you out even more. You have to slap your hand over your mouth again, your body shaking, begging to let go. He pumps them in and out of you with the kind of ease that should be embarrassing, watching every reaction you give him with dark enraptured eyes.

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He asks, a needy rasp in his voice, curving his fingers just right.

”Ohmygod.” Your eyes roll back, just like your body, teeth biting into the fat of your bottom lip giving him a nod he can barely see from your place on your back.

”No, no, honey. Tell me.” He tsks, leaning forward wrapping his lips around your clit for just a moment, relishing in the way it makes you twitch. “Tell me you’re gonna be good for me.”

”Please — Steve.” You whine needing him to do that again. “I’ll - I’ll be good. Wanna cum for you.”

Something animalistic rips itself from his chest, bringing his mouth back to your bundle of nerves, he sucks with just the right amount of pressure for your mouth to fall open in a silent scream. Colors burst bright behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm of your life snaps that tight string that’s been pushed to its limits all night. Steve watches in awe from between your legs as you come apart for him, eyes glazed over feeling the way your walls pulse, trying to push him out while sucking him deeper at the same time. He groans watching your chest heave, nipples still puffy from the work of his mouth.

He lets you ride out your orgasm a little longer before gently pulling his fingers out, cleaning them off in his mouth with an appreciative hum. It takes you a moment to regain your surroundings, to remember who you are. His hands massage your thighs, whispering praises against the inside of them, leaving feather light kisses on your still twitching muscles. Your fingers slowly release their death grip in his hair as your breathing starts to even out, eyes fluttering open to the starry night sky.

The pale glow of the moon peeks out from behind a thin cloud, the silence of the evening bringing you out of whatever reality you two had just lost yourselves in. Neither of you say anything, leaving racing thoughts left unspoken to manifest into something you won’t have any control over.

”Hey,” he murmurs sweetly, like he knows too. “Come here.”

Steve gently takes your legs from off his shoulders, bringing them back down into the heat of the water. His hands slide up your calves to your thighs before grabbing your hands, encouraging you up. You don’t put up a fight despite the muscles in your body feeling weak from it all. Helping you in, he pulls you over to the other side where he had started the night, sitting you on his lap.

It’s impossible not to feel just how big he is underneath you, or how hard and all you want to do is take care of it, but your body screams at you to go to bed. Curling up sideways on his thighs, you tuck your face into the curve of his neck, fingers finding their way into the thick hair on his chest. The tips of them twiddling the gold chain resting there.

”Honey, I know what I said, but as amazing as that was, it really shouldn’t happen again.”

Resting his cheek on the top of your head, the way he lets you down sounds so tender you almost didn’t realize he was ending this before it could begin. While you were both still ahead. Those lust drunk words whispered from between your legs losing all their credibility in ten seconds flat.

“Yeah. I know.” You say quietly, clearing your throat. Nuzzling into his neck deeper, you breathe him in one last time, before doing what you need to do to feel like you’re the one to walk away. “I should probably go to bed, Jenny’s gonna be up soon.”

Using the last of your strength, you push off of him ignoring the way he tries to pull you back, and the way he says your name like this hurts just as bad for him too.

”It’s fine, promise.” The smile you give him wrapping the towel you’d brought down around yourself doesn’t meet your eyes. “I’ll uh - I’ll see you in the morning.”

”We should talk about this.” He argues, standing up and you have to avert your gaze or all your resolve will go away.

”Really, Steve, it’s fine. We had too much to drink. That was it. This is it.”

“Yeah, that's right,” he said, voice gravelly from behind you as he pushed a little too roughly against you, your hands sliding over the reports placed on the desk, scattering them to the floor. Neither of you cared enough to worry about what they might have been or if they were in any particular order.

“Gator,” you moaned, just letting your upper half collapse onto the desk, not trying to move away from him but instead giving yourself the leverage to hike one of your legs up onto the surface beside you, your right knee nudging the sheriff's desk lamp and almost knocking it over, as you spread yourself even further apart for your fellow deputy behind you.

“God, fuckin' good little bitch y'are,” Gator muttered, and you groaned, reaching back with your right hand to dig your fingers into your ass cheek, holding yourself open too, now, so Gator could see himself entering you. You heard him chuckle.

“Fuck me,” you whined in response, half sprawled out on his father's desk as he slid his hands to your waist, pulling you back onto his cock as he just kept pounding into you, the slap of skin on skin audible, the wet sounds of him entering and leaving your tight pussy just serving to make your clit throb, your tongue peek out of your mouth. You were so goddamn worked up you were fucking panting.

And Gator clocked it, because of course he did. He could read your body like no one else ever had. He laughed again, derisive—your pussy clenched down on him, and he groaned before he spoke, his hand skimming up your spine through your uniform shirt, because all you'd bothered to remove was your boots and pants.

“Losin' yer breath there, huh?” Gator asked. “Need it that bad.” That one wasn't a question.

“Yeah,” you agreed, knowing you were better off keeping your wits about you, since you were here for work, after all, but not quite able to shake it off. Gator was a motherfucker with a mouth on him, someone you wouldn't bring home to mama, but with how he took care of you in other ways, that was actually the perfect reason not to bring him to meet her.

“Need me t'fill up this perfect little tang a'yers,” he said, and you loosed a stuttering breath at how filthy he made you feel, the absolutely vile shit he said to you—the way it made you clench down on him, made the slide even easier because he had you gushing at the demeaning words leaving his lips.

“Please,” you moaned, and he shoved into you fully, and stopped.

“N—Gator, don't—don't stop,” you whined, and he just laughed again, pulling out of you, watching as your pussy gaped a little once you were empty, your slit fluttering around nothing.

“Turn over,” he said, waiting as you managed to flip yourself around on shaky legs, leaning back against Roy's desk, watching as he made sure the condom was still exactly where it was supposed to be, not paying you any attention at all.

Your arousal was running down one of your thighs as you stood there waiting, his thick cock jutting straight out from his front, curved up just a little, the rubber sheathing him shiny, doused with you.

“Lean back,” he said, stepping closer to you, and you did, bracing yourself on Sheriff Tillman's desk—your boss and his father, making all of this even more fucked up than it was—and before you really had your balance, Gator had hooked one of his hands beneath your thigh, pulling it up roughly, opening you for him again. He held onto it, crowding you, bullying his cock back into your loose pussy and you groaned as he bottomed out yet again, this time feeling his breath fanning over your lips and cheek, mint mixed with tobacco, his eyes on yours.

“Y'like me close like this, right?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, but you'd take him in any position in any place at any time. You weren't picky, not when it came to him.

“Yeah,” he sneered, echoing you. “Like ya like this too. Grindin' that sweet little tang all over my cock, go on, get movin'.”

He held your leg to the side, making sure that he had enough room to fuck into you as you balanced half on the edge of the desk, the wetness that had been dripping onto your thigh now smearing over his front as he rolled his hips against you.

“I said get movin',” Gator said, and with his free hand he reached back behind you, pressing his fingers beneath you to cup your ass so you were nearly sitting on his hand. It spurred you on—you bucked into him, feeling his cock press even deeper into you, drawing a groan from your chest as you felt his cheek round up as he pressed the side of his face to yours, grinning as he whispered to you. “Y'know yer mine, right?” Gator asked you.

You shuddered, nodding, but that wasn't answer enough for him. He squeezed your ass, squeezed your leg, pushing it back even more to spread you open further, fuck you even deeper.

“All fuckin' mine,” he said. “Ain't no one else ever gonna fuck you like I do, y'know that, right?”

“Yes, G—” you started to say, but he wasn't finished yet. His hips pressed tight into yours as he pushed into you all the way, stilling deep inside you. Your body was squeezing down around him, your walls clinging to him, pulsing, trying to entice him to start moving again, though the weight of him just resting inside you was still satisfying in its own depraved way.

“This pussy belongs to me,” he said, pulling out and thrusting back in. “This mouth belongs to me.” He let his lips brush over yours but didn't kiss you—he never did. “This fuckin' tight little ass belongs to me.” He dug his fingertips into the plush flesh of your backside so hard it almost hurt. “I think y'like that, don'tcha?”

“Yes,” you nearly cried out.

His cheek was against yours again, lips brushing over it as he spoke, the faint tickle of his eyelashes making you shudder. “Then give it all t'me, darlin',” Gator said. “Show me how much y'like it, c'mon.”

“Gator...” you whimpered, and he huffed a short laugh as your hands gripped his arms, shaky fingers pressing into his triceps.

“Fucked ya out already?” he mused. “Fuckin' pillow princess.”

You whined as his hand slid out from beneath your ass and moved to your thigh, splaying out there as his thumb crooked against your mound, sliding down to press between your labia. He rubbed at the hood of your clit for a moment before moving down just a little further, the pad of his finger finally making contact with your neglected clit.

“Ah, fuck, Gator,” you said, not dipping your head back but forward, resting your temple against his shoulder, tipping your chin to kiss his neck.

“Wanna feel ya come, ya little fuckin' slut,” he said, with as much affection as he could muster—which wasn't a lot, but you had done this enough times by now that you knew the tone with which he said it wasn't as harsh as it could be. “Know I ain't done 'til you are.”

“I'm close,” you said, grasping at him. The sun was rising higher in the sky—the other deputies would be arriving soon. Sheriff Tillman would be arriving soon, and if he caught his son with you in his office, one of you would be getting the boot and it wasn't Gator.

“S'prised it took this long,” Gator mumbled, rubbing your clit in slow, deep circles now, feeling it kick against his thumb, feeling your pussy ripple around him in waves. “Must be offa my game.”

“Tried to—hold it back,” you admitted, and Gator didn't pull away to look at you, just kept shallowly dragging his cock out of you and then pushing back in, giving you the depth and pressure you liked rather than the friction he needed.

“What fer?”

“Wanna feel you all day,” you breathed, and you felt Gator's cock twitch when you did, his hips rub against your thighs as his body tried to seat him even further inside you. It affected him, but of course he had to pretend it didn't.

“Think ya wouldn't if it was quick?” he said, starting to fuck you properly again, but keeping it slow for you, snapping his hips in at the last moment so his front hit yours with a little extra pressure.

You whimpered in response, and he fucked you harder, quicker, picking up the pace with his thumb too. After a few passes, he hit just the right angle, and your orgasm hit you, your whole body tightening up around him—vaguely, you heard him groan as he fucked into you one last time, his hips stuttering against yours as your orgasm pulled Gator's along with it, and you both rode it out together, his face pressed into your cheek, your lips kissing his earlobe, drawing it between your lips for a brief moment.

“Fuckin' shit,” Gator half-growled as he came down, holding onto you to ground himself before he even attempted to move.

“Jesus,” you sighed, as he lowered your leg back down but didn't pull out of you, your thighs tight on either side of his hips. You looked up at him, eyes meeting, and he studied you for a moment.

“Fit fer duty?” he asked, as he always did after he wrung you out, and you laughed, because that was what you always did too.

“As a fuckin' fiddle,” you replied, and Gator pulled out of you, the both of you flinching a little at the sensation of losing each other, not wanting to even if this was nearly an every day occurrence for you. You slid off of the sheriff's desk as Gator backed up, tying off the condom and grabbing some tissues out of his jacket pocket for the two of you to clean up.

“Got any more?” you asked, still wiping your thighs. “I'm, um...”

Out of the moment, you were never as good with dirty talk, but Gator didn't have that problem, even a little.

“Got ya soakin' wet, didn't I,” he said, handing you the rest of the tissues he had. “Had ya fuckin' drippin' down yer own leg.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, dismissively, but felt your cheeks burning.

He stepped closer, caging you in against his dad's desk, even though you were at risk of being discovered now more than ever.

“Yeah, well,” he said. “She knows who she belongs to, don't she?”

You swallowed, nodding.

“Who?” Gator asked.

You scoffed, not quite believing he was going to make you say it.

“Who,” he demanded. “Say it.”

“You,” you replied. “You, Gator.”

He put his hand on your hip, sliding it over your abdomen, his thumb dipping into your folds again to brush over your swollen clit, still sensitive and wet, making you tense a little. “Goddamn right.”

He tugged his pants back up, tucked himself away, left you standing at his father's desk half-naked and completely debauched. “Have a good day, Deputy,” he said, smug, and left the office.

&&

The coffee you stopped for an hour later did nothing to calm you the fuck down—in fact, it only made you feel even more wound up. Gator was probably doing a task for his dad—you'd heard the sheriff reaming him for something or other as you twirled your keychain around your finger and headed out to the lot to climb into your cruiser and take off on patrol, waiting to become useful to dispatch.

But it was a slow morning. You'd pulled off the highway just behind a low wooded area, hiding yourself from oncoming vehicles to try and catch anyone who might get the bright idea to speed in broad daylight on the open road, and sipped your coffee. You'd ordered it light and sweet, heavy on the sweet, and apparently the guy who'd made it for you didn't know what either of those words meant because it was still dark and barely tasted of sugar at all.

You nursed the steaming cup, settling back in your seat, watching for anything untoward happening on the highway, but you didn't spot much, other than people slowing down once they noticed your car as they were halfway to passing you.

Wasn't worth pulling someone over for going only a few over the limit. No, you were waiting for the small-dicked show-offs in their overpowered pickup trucks or bright and shiny sports cars, pushing triple-digits because they thought they could.

It didn't take long for your mind to wander—the radio chatter wasn't worth listening to, not really, so you put your tepid coffee in the cupholder and exhaled deeply, sliding a little bit further down in your seat and adjusting your seatbelt so it wasn't pressing against your throat.

Sighing heavily, you tuned back in to the radio for a moment as you heard Gator's voice.

“Anyone know what time the pizza place near the station opens?”

You snickered, and then laughed quietly to yourself as dispatch responded.

“Deputy Tillman, the radio is to be used for official department business.”

“Fuckin' hell,” Gator said back. “Just tryna find out when I can get a slice.”

“It opens at 11,” Lemley answered, and you just smirked as Gator thanked him and a different dispatcher admonished them both.

You let your head tip back against the driver's seat, your hand trailing over your thigh, clad in your thick uniform trousers. Even through the canvas, you still felt yourself get twitchy, your inner thigh jumping a little at your touch.

God, you did still feel him, even though it had been a couple hours since you'd hooked up.

You glanced at the radio—silent. Surely there wouldn't be anything going on so early this morning that you'd be needed to get involved with. You hesitated, then lifted your hand from your thigh to lower the volume. It was fine.

With your right hand, you unbuckled your seatbelt and with your left, you dug into your pocket for your phone, swiping to open it and navigating to your text thread with Gator, which was pretty much exclusively nudes and lewds that you two sent to each other as spank bank material—you didn't have much to talk about otherwise, truthfully.

Scrolling through the photos with one hand, you unbuttoned your pants with the other and tugged down the zipper, lifting your hips and shoving them down just enough that you could slip your hand down between your thighs.

This was some Gator type shit to do, for sure—you smirked, because just as the thought crossed your mind, you passed a photo he'd sent you of his cock, propped up on the steering wheel of his cruiser, his thumb curled over the head, smearing his precome away from the slit. You felt your pussy clench a little at the sight of him, and pressed your fingertips against your slit through your panties, but kept flicking through pictures.

You paused for a moment on one you'd sent, a shot of you from the waist up, one hand gathered in your hair, head cocked slightly to the side, the other playing with one of your nipples, lips swollen from how you'd been biting them. You studied yourself, then nodded approvingly. You were fucking hot. You rubbed at your slit, then stopped. You might be a little conceited but probably not enough to jack off to yourself.

Back to Gator.

You loosed a little groan as you slid your hand up your front and then back down into your panties, letting your middle finger slip between your folds as you kept looking through pictures—and then stopped, finding one he'd sent pretty early in your situationship, when you were both still walking on eggshells around each other and thus going all out in your dick and titty pictures.

His cock was flushed, red at the tip, drooling precome in a streak down the head; he was flexing it toward the camera, so you could see how big he was, how close to coming he'd been when he snapped the picture, his hand not wrapped around it but just propping it up on his palm.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, pressing your finger further between your labia to rub over your clit, sighing a little. You were still wet, even though you'd tried to clean yourself up; your fingertip was slicking so goddamn easily over your clit that you felt your nipples perk up in your bra at how easy it was to touch yourself. You were still fucking drenched, and you curled your wrist a little, the pad of your fingertip sliding down from your clit to your leaking cunt, rubbing at your entrance but not moving inside—this was going to be quick and dirty to try to get it out of your system, not you taking your time the way you wanted to.

You tapped the picture of Gator's cock, fullscreening it, and moved your finger back up to your clit, tongue flitting over your lips as you rubbed yourself, looking at the picture but mostly thinking about Gator, especially that morning.

“Ain't no one else ever gonna fuck you like I do," he'd said, and you groaned quietly, because god, he was probably right. It took a special kind of person to walk the line between generous and debaucherous, and Gator balanced on it perfectly.

The sound of your hand working between your legs filled the car, and you closed your eyes, but held your thumb on your phone screen in case you wanted a visual to go with your memory, and you thought of the way you'd felt his lips just brush over yours, the slight graze of his eyelashes on your temple, and your whole body gave a kick, your clit throbbing, your pussy desperate for something inside of it again.

“Y'know yer mine, right?” he'd asked you.

“Yours,” you mumbled, so fucking lost, a little embarrassed of the hold he had on you, but fuck if he wasn't right. You did like it, liked how possessive he was of you, how much he wanted you, desired you. If you belonged to him, you knew that the reverse was also true—he could claim your pussy was his as much as he wanted, but all that meant was he was yours just the same. Wrapped around your little finger.

You opened your eyes and looked down at the picture again, then frantically swiped back through them to find the one of him in the cruiser, because suddenly that one seemed like the right one to see at the moment.

“Fuck,” you said, loudly, because you were about to crest your peak, your finger slipping erratically over your clit, and you still hadn't found the picture you were looking for—and then all of a sudden, a knock came at your window.

You shrieked a little, your hand stilling between your legs, dropping your phone; it bounced off your thigh and slid down between the door and the seat.

“Hell you doin'?” Gator asked, bemused, a smirk on his lips.

“Gator?” you asked, mouth dry, cheeks burning hot. “What are you—?” You got half the question out before you saw his eyes dip down to your lap, and then back up to your face. His lack of a reaction told you he'd seen what you were doing before he'd tapped on your window.

“Open the window,” he said. “Don't move otherwise.”

“Gator,” you said, stern, and started to pull your hand out of your pants as you reached to depress the button to roll the window down.

“Don't you fuckin' dare,” he said, leaning half into the car. You thought for one hysterical moment he was going to kiss you. Your heart sped up a little in your chest, even though it was already fluttering.

But no—he didn't even look at you as he leaned over you, past you, his arm reaching for your radio. He turned the volume knob up until you could hear.

“—pond?” A pause. “Deputy, please respond?” the dispatcher was requesting.

Gator grabbed the radio with one hand.

“Go on,” he said, voice low. “Respond.” He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, hanging half into the window of your cruiser, and held the radio up to your mouth while pressing the button on the side.

With his other hand, he reached down to cup his hand over yours, pressing your hand against yourself. Your breath hitched.

“D-Deputy sheriff, badge number 4101,” you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady. Gator tucked his hand further between your legs. “All clear, all—all set. Musta accidentally hit the radio knob 'nd turned the volume down.” You looked up at Gator, who just about nudged your cheek with the radio, then slid his hand up just the same as you'd done, and then right back down, fingers lacing with yours as he moved them together, making the pad of your finger slide over your clit again. “Deputy Tillman is on scene,” you said. “No problems, thanks.”

“Thank you Deputy,” the dispatcher said. “Be more careful with that radio.”

“Will do,” you said, shaking a little, waiting for Gator to release the button that would transmit any audio from your cruiser, and once you saw his finger move away, you moaned, moving your free hand to his wrist, clinging to him.

“Jesus fuckin' Christ,” he said, tossing the radio into the passenger seat, the coiled wire bouncing around as he did. “Didn't give it to ya good enough this mornin', ya needed even more?” He crowded into you, even though he was leaning in through the window. “When I said ya were a good little bitch I didn't think you'd start actin' like y'were in heat. God damn.”

“Gator,” you whined, and he smirked down at you, pulling his hand out of your pants and then, as you watched, lifted his wet fingers to his lips and sucked them off.

“Get out,” he said, as he lowered his hand. When you hesitated, he jerked his head toward the backseat. “C'mon. Get movin'.”

You opened the door to your cruiser as he backed up a few steps, taking his hand as he helped you out and then walked you right past the rear door, opening it and waiting for you to sit on the back seat. You sank down and he glanced around, so you did too. You'd been so enthralled in what you were doing that you literally hadn't even noticed the way he'd pulled up in his own cruiser, mostly blocking yours from view from the road, and when he sunk down to his knees and curled his hands into the waistband of your pants, you just lifted your ass up to let him pull down your uniform pants and your underwear, which were so wet they stuck to you just a little.

“Fuck,” Gator said, eyeing the way your panties were almost soaked through in the crotch. He pushed your legs up a little, looking at you between them where he bent you at the waist. “Get yer boots off, gonna be hard enough t'take care'a ya in the backseat, ferget keepin' anything on.” He pushed your thighs up against your stomach as you reached up to unlace your boots, knowing full well that your wet cunt was on full display for him. You let each shoe fall to the floor of the cruiser, and then together you pulled off your pants and underwear—though Gator plucked those from your fingers. You watched, eyes wide, as he crumpled them up in his hand and then lifted them to his face, breathing in your scent deeply, his own eyes slipping closed.

“Mm,” he hummed absently, and then you watched, speechless, as he parted his lips and let the soaked cotton drag against his tongue. “Fuck, that's real nice.”

You could feel your heartbeat in your fingertips, hear it in your ears; beyond aroused, you watched as he lowered his hand to stuff your dirty underwear into his pants pocket, and then pushed your legs back up so you were open and exposed to him.

“Just a taste ain't enough,” he said, holding your gaze as he lowered his face down to your cunt, already pulsing around nothing, already way too needy.

His tongue dragged over your folds, and the warmth of it against your heated core made you shudder, your hands sliding down to grope at your thighs, holding onto them as he sucked at your slit, your cunt squeezing down as he did, wanting to suck something inside of it, hold it there, get fucked hard and harsh, but he wasn't giving anything to you yet.

No—he just moved up, his lips moving over your clit as he sucked at it, tongue circling it, probing at it beneath the hood, between your lips, teasing it as you moaned, loud and unabashed, feeling it throbbing the more he sucked.

“Gator,” you whined, and he didn't pull away to speak; he just groaned against you, sucking you still, letting his tongue cradle it with gentle pressure until you were reaching for him, his hair, his face—he cut you off with his own hand, letting your fingers move between his as he held your hand. You squeezed it, hard, as you felt yourself let go against his face, your hips rolling up against him as he moved with you, not pulling his mouth off of you even as you pushed at his hand, because it was too much.

He flicked his tongue against you a few more times, then pulled away, licking your arousal off of his lips before he gave your ass a playful little slap and leaned up, hands on the backs of your knees, holding himself over you.

“Whatcha think, princess?” he asked. “Make ya feel any better?”

You shook your head.

“No?” he asked, smirking. “You tryna say she aint satisfied?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying,” you replied.

He laughed, releasing one of your legs—you curled your own hand around your knee, holding it up for him—and dipped two fingers into your cunt, still willing and ready for him. When he did, your eyes slipped half closed and a low, heavy moan fell from your lips.

“Got it,” Gator said. “Feelin' all empty without me in ya, huh?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, and he dug his fingers just a little deeper inside of you, feeling your walls pressing around him as you squeezed down onto them.

“Look at her,” Gator said, twisting his wrist so his palm was facing up, curling his fingers to try to find your g-spot. “She knows, don't she?” He scissored his fingers apart just a little, stretching you, pulling another moan from you. You released your legs—they fell against him just a little, but you needed hands on your tits right fucking now; your nipples were peaked inside your shirt, begging for attention from you, from him, you didn't fucking care.

Gator's fingers slowed to a stop inside of you as he watched you practically tear open the buttons of your uniform shirt, pulling it open and then just yanking your bra up, tits spilling out from beneath the cups as they ended up atop your chest, pebbled nipples hard. You cupped them almost immediately, pinching and rolling the perked buds as Gator watched, almost as dumbstruck as you'd felt when he'd interrupted you.

“Lemme in there,” he said, but you didn't relent, just kept your fingers working over your tits, as he pulled his fingers out of you and moved them to his waist, undoing his own belt, button, and fly and shoving his camo pants down along with his boxer briefs, cock springing out of the waistband. He was pink at the tip, not reddened yet, not like the picture you'd been touching yourself to, but he was getting there and the thought alone made you groan eagerly.

With one hand, he slipped two fingers into a pocket of his tac vest; with the other, he braced himself on the backseat of the cruiser and leaned over you, pushing your left hand away from your tit with his face as he covered your nipple with his mouth, sucking at it and making your back arch up off of the seat.

“Feels so good,” you whined, flexing your hips, like that could get him to move any faster; he couldn't even see you doing it.

“Gonna feel—even better,” Gator said, still groping around in a different pocket, “in a fuckin'—minute. There we fuckin' go.”

He pulled away from you and you saw, now, what he'd been looking for—a condom. He tore the corner of the wrapper with his teeth and then, pushing himself so he was kneeling over you, his slicked-back hair brushing the roof of the cruiser, he pulled it out, rolled it on, and with no warning, no preamble, sank right into you, your position and spread legs giving him the easiest access to your cunt he'd ever had.

“Oh my god,” you half-yelled, at the same moment he grunted out, “Shit, fuck yeah.”

He started a brutal pace instantly, not giving you time to acclimate, not waiting to bottom out before he'd pulled back, instead just going at you right away, fucking you hard and fast and making you squeal beneath him as his hips pistoned against yours.

“Gator—!” Your voice was high and broken as you said his name, the cruiser rocking back and forth as he fucked into you, desperate, your previous orgasm doing nothing to sate you—you just wanted everything he could give you and then some.

“Uh huh,” he uttered, bracing his hands on the seats for a moment as he tucked his knees up a little, giving himself more leverage to drill down into you, his cock reaching so fucking deep inside your pussy as you wrapped your legs around him, squeezing his sides with your thighs as you fought to keep him pounding into you, wanting the residual ache from him inside of you for as long as you could keep it.

“Keep—fuckin'—just like that,” you mewled, then moved your left hand down to your clit, your right hand still tugging at your nipple, switching to rubbing over it at the same pace and rhythm as you moved your hand over your swollen clit.

“Shit,” Gator said through gritted teeth. “So fuckin' tight, can't—can't—”

“Come for me,” you said, and he glanced up at you, meeting your eyes—you'd never asked him that before, never took even a little charge with him. His hips faltered for a second, weakened because of how it felt for you to speak that way to him. “Go on,” you coaxed him, squeezing your cunt down on his length. “Come for me, Gator. Give it all to me—”

You gasped as his hips snapped against you, you echoing what he'd said to you that morning bringing him to the edge.

“Fuckin'—gonna,” he moaned, leaning down further over you, his face right above yours, his nose brushing against your nose as he looked down into your eyes. This, probably, was the most intimate you'd ever been, looking right at each other in the throes of passion; or well—lust, at least.

“Please,” you begged, and then your fingers slipped over your clit just right, his cock driving home into you, and your lower half tensed and then snapped, your hips curling upward and fucking your cunt onto his cock as you came, hard, so hard you had to close your eyes and let your jaw drop in a silent scream, breathy gasps falling from your lips as you rode it out on his cock, his front still slapping against yours, his rhythm becoming sloppy as he got even closer.

“Whose am I?” you asked, voice weak.

“Yer fuckin' mine,” he growled at you, his hips canting into yours as he came. “Yer mine.”

Your heels dug into his back, pulling him against you, your pussy quivering, overstimulated, as you held him inside of you, his arms failing, his front falling flat against yours. “Yeah,” you decided, “but vice fuckin' versa.”

He met your eyes from where his cheek rested on your shoulder, the two of you smirking a little. Then, like he wasn't entirely sure about what he was doing, he rose up just enough off of your body to kiss you for the first time.

You could tell it wouldn't be the only.