Every Friday night, you could almost guarantee that you would see him. If he were off duty for the night, he’d be grabbing a beer inside, waiting to snag a dance with you. There were other nights when he was scheduled to be on patrol, which typically resulted in him being ‘stationed’ in the lot across from the bar. You couldn’t prove that Gator waited there for you to arrive and was keen to watch you leave. 

“Deputy’s outside, antagonizing that poor punk that catcalled you in the parking lot,” your friend stated while passing you a drink. “He’s mighty protective of you. Does your boyfriend realize that?”

Your eyes flicked from the beer bottle to the entryway of the bar. They searched as if you would even be able to see him, but deep down, you knew he was out there waiting for you to leave. 

“Grant’s not my boyfriend,” You scowled, dismissing the jab, “He’s a family friend. It would’ve been impolite to say no.”

Grant was the guy who had asked you here tonight. He was the son of your father’s business partner, and it was evident to both of you that your parents wanted you to hit it off. He was a nice guy, a stable option, but he didn’t seem to care about whether or not you wanted a career for yourself. There were plenty of girls around the county who’d kill for a guy like that. Though Grant came from a long line of ranchers and land men, he lacked grit and edge. 

“But you know he wants to make a move,” Your friend tried to make sense of the situation, “He’s stable, has a future, knows what he wants…”

“No, Grant thinks he wants to be with me because my parents keep presenting me on a silver platter for him,” You corrected, “He’s looking at it like a business strategy, an investment. But I’m not interested in serving his ROI.”

“God, you sound like your daddy,” Your friend huffed, before slamming back a shot, “But I understand your hesitation. I mean, the guy doesn’t exactly scream emotional intimacy or that he has much extended interest in you.”

That perked your ear, “Extended interest?”

The poor girl rolled her eyes at your confusion, “Grant has asked you here three times now. Not once has he offered to pick you up. Both of you invite a friend. He buys you exactly one drink. You give him one dance. He goes to sit and watch the game. You talk to me or dance with other guys until you tell him you're leaving, and he escorts you out. It’s transactional.”

“And this is in comparison to what exactly?” You ask for clarification. 

She points towards the entrance of the bar, “Gator Tillman is currently outside those doors, tearing a motherfucker a new one for cat-calling you. He waits like a damn guard dog to watch you arrive and leave safely. And if he isn’t on duty, he’s in here, looking for the next opportunity to ask you to dance or buy you a drink or do anything to take you home.”

You scoff at her explanation, “Gator’s been obsessed with me since high school. I’m just shocked the poor guy hasn’t moved on.”

“No, you’re not,” It was her turn to bring your behaviors into question, “I’ve known you since we were twelve years old. I know you, and I know you like the attention that Gator’s given you for years. Yeah, his father’s the sheriff and an asshole. Sure, your daddy doesn’t like either of them too much, but the fact of the matter is that Gator has been playing the long game, between every boyfriend and rejection. He’s just biding his time, proving himself a little more each day, begging God that one day, you’ll finally say yes to more than a dance or a drink.”

“Well, isn’t that an astute observation?” You shook your head, cutting your gaze over to the dance floor. The question was rhetorical, but her words did make you consider the state of things. There was an unfortunate truth to her words: underlying family expectations, selfish desires, fear of the unknown. There was an obvious choice that was being presented to you. Either a polished future that lacked a desire you craved, or a future that felt messy and raw, riddled with exciting consequences…

Another drink and another dance. Grant had found you first this time. He mentioned that the game was over and that he wanted to walk you to your car. Your friend ordered herself an Uber, and soon you were out the door. 

You only saw him in a few brief glimpses, but you knew he was watching. You could feel him watching. Gator had never been one for subtlety.

Grant kept his hand planted on your lower back as he escorted you out of the bar. He walked with a calm confidence, but you could tell the air was charged with something you were nervous to name. His kiss was quicker than you could recall. His lips firmly planted on yours, before they were gone altogether. 

But you didn’t think about the fact that Grant had finally made a move and kissed you. You only thought about how Gator forced himself to watch. You heard the screech of tires take off into the night. There was no question in your mind that it was Gator’s cruiser. 

— — — 

It was half past one when you heard a fist pounding against the front door. You’d been home for a little over an hour or so. Typically, the ranch was quiet at this time of night, and you seldom had visitors over. Most people who came all the way out here went straight towards the larger estate on the property where your parents lived. 

You waited another moment before answering, ensuring that it wasn’t the action on the bedroom TV. The knock came again, heavier and urgent. You got to your feet, snagging your robe from the door hook for your own modesty. The knock sounded a third time as you made your way to the front door, “Coming!” 

There on the otherside stood Gator, who steeled himself despite the obvious signs of his frustration. His typically gelled back hair was now tousled and fell into his eyes. The vest he was required to wear on duty was gone, replaced by his black bomber jacket and undershirt. But his eyes… You had never seen that look before. Both wild and pleading, silently begging. 

“Deputy,” His title rolled off your tongue, sounding more surprised than you intended, “Can I help you—”

“Tell me you’re not seein’ him,” Gator grumbled, his hands pressed on both sides of the door frame. 

You blinked at the request, still shocked by his appearance. It was hard to decipher what surprised you more: the fact that Gator seemed so torn up over the situation or the fact that he hadn’t thought your dates with Grant were serious. 

You cleared your throat and straightened your posture, “His name is Grant.”

“Surname?”

“Gator,” You gave him a look, “Don’t.”

At your piercing gaze, Gator sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. His hand then nabbed the vape from his coat pocket, quickly inhaling like he was in a rush for relief. When he exhaled, you noted the notes of whiskey on his breath. 

“You’ve been drinking,” You stated, your tone becoming firm, “Don’t tell me you went drinking and drove yourself all the way out here.”

Instead of an answer, Gator simply hung his head in shame. 

A scoff escaped your lips, and you moved quickly to shut the screen door. Before you could, Gator shot his hand out, prying the rusty metal back open. His fingertips pressed into the mess, indenting the skin there. His chocolate brown eyes slowly raked up your body, drinking in your appearance. 

“Do you dance with him?” He asked, his voice wavering at the weight of his question and the implication behind it. 

Your brow furrowed as you tilted your head at the question. Just as quickly as you opened your mouth to reply, you closed it, “Gator, it’s complicated…”

“No, it’s not,” He hummed and shook his head, “Do you dance with him…?”

You shifted your weight between the balls of your feet, “He usually takes me out on the floor once. That’s it…” 

Gator’s brow twitched, frustration and jealousy painting his handsome features. His hand gripped the door frame as he took a half step closer, “But he doesn’t dance with you… not like I do. He doesn’t spin you and show you off to the whole dance hall, he doesn’t sweep you off your feet, he don’t hold you like you’re his world. Not like I do…”

His words spurred something inside of you, heat pooling in your lower abdomen. He spoke about dancing with you as if it were a privilege. 

You cut your eyes back inside, catching the time on the clock, “Gator, it’s late, and you’re clearly a little inebriated.”

“Please…” Gator’s voice cracked as he looked at you with desperation and desire, “I’ve been patient, and I’ve been trying my damndest to prove myself to you. I’d be so good to you. I’ll do anything. I’ll get on my hands and knees right now if you want me to—”

Your eyes widened at the confession, yet you quickly recovered with a shake of your head, “You don’t have to do that, Gator.”

“Then what is it, darlin’?” He asks, voice thick with want. He leans in closer, like you’re the gravitational force keeping him tethered to this world, “What’s he got that I don’t? What do I have to do, honey? Because I— I’ll do it. He wouldn’t love you like I would, he couldn’t cherish you like I can, he can’t protect you like—”

“Gator, it was a date, not a damn marriage proposal.” You firmly cut him off again, fingers rubbing soothing circles to your temple. With a shake of your head, your eyes met his pleading gaze once more.

Yet Gator made no move to leave. He remained firmly planted on your front porch, chest rising and falling with each deep inhalation. The poor bastard looked ready to fall to his damn knees or go hunt down Grant — you were sure that he was considering both options. 

“Did he drive you home?” He gritted his teeth, “Is he back in your bed, right now?”

Your brow furrowed at his question, “No, he didn’t, and he isn’t. But it would be none of your business if he were.”

Gator rolled his eyes and sighed with a shake of his head. His hand moved to smooth over his mouth as if he were attempting to hold himself back. The dark of night gave him a dangerous aura, yet the way your porch light illuminated his honey-brown eyes kept him softer. He contemplated the following words carefully before taking a half-step closer, hands resting on either side of your door frame, “I know that I ain’t half the man that you deserve, but neither is he… if you gotta choose somebody, let it be someone who knows how to take care of ya.”

Your heartbeat stuttered at his words, but you pushed yourself to remain indifferent, “And you think you know how to take care of me?”

The corners of his lips spread into a familiar smirk, some of his natural cockiness returning, “Don’t I always? Lockin’ up criminals so that they can’t even think to lay a hand on you, watchin’ you when I‘m on patrol, treating you to drinks and showing you off. I’m a fool in love. A fool for you…”

You blinked at him, feeling a heat ignite in your abdomen and spread beneath your skin. Your eyes flicked between his own and his lips, slightly chapped. Gator leaned in closer, his fingers dancing down the edges of your doorframe. You made no move to stop his advance, not even when his hands settled on the swell of your hips. 

His lips were on yours before either of you could deny the truth again. You tried to reason with yourself, or make yourself feel guilty for kissing Gator when you had been on a date with another man earlier that evening. But with each passing moment, everything became clearer. It was always going to be Gator who protected you, not Grant.

Your hands slid around his shoulders before linking around the back of his neck. You lightly tugged him closer, pulling him into your house while the screen door slammed shut behind him. Neither of you attempted to break the kiss. Gator surprised you by swiftly shutting the main door before pressing you back against the wood. It was another moment of tongue and teeth before you’d finally break away to catch your breath. The deputy simply continued to press open-mouthed kisses to the curve of your jaw, thumbs rubbing circles against your hips. 

“Gator,” You tried again, the words more breathless than intended. Your finger raked up his neck and through his hair, catching between your fingers as you lightly scratched his scalp. A whimper sounded from his throat as he finally pulled off of you. 

 “C’mon, honey,” His lips hovered close to your own, staying near just in case this all turned out to be a dream again, “let me take care of ya…”

You couldn’t deny him. Not when he was standing right in front of you, looking at you like you hung the sun and the stars. Gator might’ve been a regular churchgoer, but this was the closest to heaven he ever felt. As you reclaimed his lips in another sensual kiss, his hands snuck under your thighs, his feet braced to lift you up. You tried to pull back and stop him from doing so, but he was quick to haul you up, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. 

“Trying to act like a strong man?” You murmured, making him chase your lips. 

“I am a strong man. You expect me not to manhandle my woman a little?” He chuckled, the sound rumbling between your chests. 

Gator started walking back toward your bedroom as you antagonized him, “I don’t recall agreeing to be your woman.”

He gently kicked your bedroom door open with his foot. He lightly nipped at your bottom lip, responding, “You’re playing with fire, sweet thing. I’ve wanted you too long only to have you for one night.”

Before you could protest, Gator dropped you back onto your bed. A huff escaped your lips as your back hit the sheet. You watched Gator eagerly shed his jacket and thigh holster before undoing his belt. While he kicked off his shoes, you lifted yourself onto your elbows, “You giving me a show, deputy?”

A smirk twitched at his lips when he chuffed, “Maybe next time, honey, but right now, I want to see what you’re hiding under that robe.”

It was your turn to smirk as Gator excitedly stood over you. You snagged his wrist, guiding it to the tie of your robe, “Why don’t you find out?”

You didn’t have to repeat yourself. Gator swiftly tugged, undoing the knot as the material pooled to your sides. The robe revealed your lack of pajamas, just a simple white camisole and a thin pair of black panties. Gator looked utterly wrecked already as he crumbled to his knees. You had expected a more vocal reaction, but right now, he was just a man of action. 

Gator kissed up your calf to your knee, his lips continuing from your inner thigh to the swell of your mound. He continued to press gentle kisses to your clothed core as his hands trailed up your curves. He mouthed at your cunt through your panties, sighing between breaths. You didn’t stop him from his needy actions until his hips bucked against the side of the bed. 

“Gator, c’mon,” You whined and swivelled your hips to catch his attention. 

At the sound of your complaints, Gator retaliated by nipping your thigh, “I gotta warm you up, sugar. Make sure that this sweet pussy will be ready to take me.”

You tried not to roll your eyes at the statement. It was a sweet sentiment, and you did like that he wanted to make sure you were comfortable. However, there were plenty of guys who were a little quick to hype themselves up, only to provide less than satisfactory results. 

“I’ll be fine, babe, just—” The words caught in your throat as Gator promptly pulled your panties aside before diving into you again. His tongue slid up in search of your clit. Once he felt the bundle of nerves, his lips latched around it. When your hips bucked, Gator’s arms circled the joint of your hips to keep your legs pried open. He shifted between sucking at and lapping broad strips over your clit while you clawed at the bed sheets. 

Wanton moans poured from your lips, eyes unfocused as he forced you to take the pleasure in the moment. You couldn’t recall the last time someone truly savored your body, touching you like you were a thing to be worshipped. When the knot in your stomach grew tighter, you moved to thread your fingers through his hair, giving it a light tug. You could feel the smug son of a bitch smirk against your pussy, a satisfied hum sending low vibrations to your clit. It was just enough to push you over the edge, your release flooding Gator’s mouth and dribbling down his chin. 

Gator helped you through the aftershocks before settling your soaked panties back over your swollen pussy. He playfully tapped your hips as he finally pulled off of you, delighted by himself, “Good job, honey.”

Gator rose back onto his feet while lifting his shirt over his torso. Your eyes trailed from his burly chest hair, down his happy trail, and finally, the noticeable bulge in his camo pants. You eagerly sat up, but whined from the sensitive sensation between your legs. He simply chuckled as his fingers came to tease at the hem of your tank top. You raised your arm in response, allowing him to tug the while material off your skin to reveal your pebbled nipples. 

While Gator took a moment to appreciate the vision before 

“Y’know, I’ve spent plenty o’ night jerking myself off to the dream of cramming by cock down your throat.” His lewd words made your cheeks heat up. He continued, “But tonight I need to savor you, make you feel the same fire I feel when you so much as look my way.”

Gator gently pressed your shoulders back until your back settled into the sheets. His fingers ghosted down the side of your frame till they came in contact with your underwear. His fingers hooked under the material before moving to pull them off completely. They landed in a corner of your bedroom, forgotten as Gator pressed a chaste kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

He leaned forward, one hand settled next to your head while the other guided his cock. The bulbous head slid over the length of your slit, his precum mixing with your slick. His tip nudged at your entrance, Gator’s hips gently rocking as he teased you. 

“You’re always so pretty, darlin’,” Gator hummed in admiration, “But god, you're fucking gorgeous beneath me.”

Before you could reply, his tip pushed past your entrance, pulling a surprised gasp from you. His free hand moved to the other side of your head as he slowly sank into you. Gator was bigger than your last couple of partners, but he kept his movements slow while you adjusted to his size. Once he had bottomed out, Gator lowered himself onto his elbow to hover over you. Your breath mingled as he remained still, enjoying the way your cunt pulsed around him while sucking him in. 

Gator rolled his hips against your pelvis, nudging your needy clit. One of your hands grasped his bicep, eyes wide with lust as you held his gaze. A moan rumbled from his chest as your nails left crescent idents on the muscle. 

Finally, Gator began to pull out a few inches before pressing back in, reaching that little sweet spot that made you gasp for air. He repeated these shallow thrusts while burying his face in the crook of your neck, littering soft kisses to the skin. He wasn’t fucking you, he was treasuring you. 

Your other hand cupped his cheek, lifting his head just enough to slot your lips over his. These kisses were less aggressive, but no less feverish. His tongue licked into your mouth, saliva collecting on the corners of your mouth. Gator continued to rock his hips into your cunt while you both exchanged sloppy kisses. As good as the moment felt, you needed more stimulation. 

“Gator,” you caught his attention by nipping at his lips, “Mmm, more.”

“More? Sounds like someone’s needy,” He chuckled lowly. Then, he pulled almost completely out before snapping right back into you. Your legs twitched as the fire grew hotter under your skin. 

Your reaction made him smirk in satisfaction while he pressed back up onto his palms, “I think I know just what you need, sugar.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Gator had pulled out completely. You whimpered at the lack of fullness as he moved onto his knees. His large hands settled onto your knees before pushing them up to your chest and then over to your left side, “Roll onto your tummy, honey. Gator’s gonna make you feel real good.”

You did as he asked, pushing up onto your hands and chest. While you settled into position, Gator swiftly placed a pillow beneath your hips to give a gentle arch. He nudged your right leg out a little to give himself plenty of room to settle on top of you. 

Once more, one of his settled by your head while the other guided himself back into your pussy at a new angle. His tip slipped in easier this time, but his cock pressed deeper than before, nudging that spongy spot inside. Both of you moaned in unison as he lowered himself, his chest hair scratching against your back, the weight of him pressing you further into the mattress. His free hand circled your waist, his palm splayed against your lower stomach. The other hand searched to take yours, interlocking your fingers. 

With a kiss to your temple, Gator leveraged himself with his strong thighs and knees to pull back before slamming his hips into your ass. The supple flesh recoiled, the sound of skin against skin filling the space between you. As he drilled into your cunt, the smell of sex permeated around you. You lost yourself in the pleasure he provided, eyes screwed shut while small groans escaped your lips. 

His palm pressed itself firmly against your lower stomach, and he could feel how his cock stretched you from the inside. Your pussy fluttered around him in response. A feral satisfaction flooded his chest as he continued to pound into you, “You’re taking me so well, darlin’. I knew you would. Just perfect for me.” 

Gator’s lips pressed sloppy kisses wherever his mouth wandered over your skin, “This is better than any damn dream. So pretty like this, honey. Only I can love you like this…”

“Gator,” His name left your lips. You couldn’t decipher if you intended it to be a warning or a prayer. The only thing you knew for sure was that you wouldn’t last much longer. 

“Yeah, honey? You close?” He asked, kissing each little freckle and beauty mark he could find, “Go ahead, baby. You can come. Gator’s got ya.”

While his thrusts became slightly more erratic, his finger dipped down to toy with your clit. A strangled moan rolled off your tongue, and your hips bucked back. Your thighs began to tremble beneath him while your orgasm overpowered you, baptizing you under a white heat. Gator continued his thrust through your aftershocks, enjoying the way your face scruched up in pleasure. 

When the tension in your shoulders released, Gator pulled entirely out of you. He stradled your hips, hand moving to jerk himself off, chasing his own release. Hot white spurts of cum shot from his cock and landed across your lower back. Throughly spent, he flopped down onto his side, landing next to you. A lazy arm wrapped around your waist while he tugged himself against your side.

The next few minutes were spent in silence, save for the dull hum of cicadas outside. 

Once he had a moment to catch his breath, Gator got up and tugged his briefs back on. He prodded over to your bathroom and turned on the faucet. He splashed his face with cool water until it was warm enough to run a washcloth under it to clean you up. He was back at your bedside only a moment later, cleaning up his spend and your sensitive pussy. 

Gator disappeared back into the bathroom again, allowing yourself a moment of privacy. You pressed yourself up onto shaky arms before sliding beneath your blankets to cover yourself. When Gator returned, his heart flipped at the sight of your disheveled, tired state. A smirk painted his lips as he joined you again, “You feelin’ alright, mama? Need anything?”

“I’m good…” Your mouth felt dry, but you didn’t want to press your luck. “Are you planning on heading out now?”

Gator chuffed, shaking his head as if the idea were ridiculous, “Head out? Are your ears full of cotton, sugar? I told you earlier, I’m here to take care of you. You’re not some one-night girl, and you damn sure ain’t getting rid of me now.”

He moved to join you underneath the blankets, his arm settled around your choulders, and pulled you into his chest. As you both nestled in, your fingers lightly brushed through the hair on his chest, eyes shutting as you settled in to sleep. Gator pressed a few more kisses into your hairline, humming in satisfaction.

a duke's life was one of expectation; become an accomplished young man, marry a lady of high society with a strong family, and carry on the family name. it did not matter if he preferred traveling to the countryside rather than managing his estate. it did not matter if he did not truly love his wife and take a mistress. it did not matter if he did not have time nor concern to see his children. this was the way in which the Duke of Maple had raised his heir, Duke Steven Harrington.

the young duke was everything a debutante could ever desire in a husband. it was a fact that he had been aware of since he'd first entered the marriage market, and for that fact, he was required to find a perfect wife. at the opening ball of his second season, he'd been introduced to the proclaimed Diamond of the Season, Lady Nancy Wheeler. she was the image of perfection, and so he relinquished his hunt, focusing all his attentions on courting her. they were engaged before the end of the season, with a wedding to occur in the fall. yet for reasons unknown to this author, their marriage would never come to fruition. 

it had long been rumored that the duke turned to find comfort from his loss in the form of wine, women, and his preferred gentlemen’s club. as young ladies fawned over his presence in the promenade, mamas whispered about his rakish behaviors and what trouble that meant for his mistresses and future wife. when two more seasons passed, and his bachelor’s status remained intact, the ton began to wonder if he’d ever find himself a woman who would enchant him as Miss Wheeler had. 

evening had fallen upon London, and with it, tonight’s great event — the third ball of the season. the Duchess of Maple was escorting her son to the ball at the invitation (or by royal order) of the Queen. together, they made their way by carriage to north London. much of the ride was silent, save the occasional comment on an eligible lady by his mother followed by a sigh. as they approached the manor, Steve turned to his mother with a look of resignation, “I shall appease you and father’s memory by attending the remainder of society’s events for the season, but I make no promise to take a wife. And if I am not engaged by the end of the season, I will take a two-year leave from society to continue my travels to the East.” 

inside the ball, you stood nervously next to your eldest brother, who had been instructed to accompany you as your chaperone for the evening. it was your second season out in society, but only because you had been so young when you were first ushered into society. your father, a baron, had demanded that you and your elder sister both debut in the same season after your family received a great inheritance from the death of your aunt. he wanted you both married with dowries paid, and his wish had been granted with your sister, now a viscountess and raising her status. he only prayed that the same luck would befall you this season. 

the evening’s assigned theme was simple, yet highly elegant — black and white. you wore a fine white empire gown made of a soft cotton-silk blend. both the bodice and skirt shared a lacy patterned overlay with pearls sewn in to emphasize the fine design. the sleeves sloped down, providing a few inches of exposed skin before your white silken gloves began. matching pearl pins has been placed throughout your hair, highlighting a halo around your face. 

“I do not enjoy the way Lord Carver is looking at me,” you complained to your brother. your fingers were occupied, fiddling with the ribbon of your unsigned dance card. it was still early evening, yet the nerves churned in your stomach.

“Lord Carver is a sensible man,” he replied, walking with you round the ballroom, “Though, I do not enjoy his drinking habits. Nor does he enjoy the theatre as much as you, dear sister.”

his reply made you giggle, “I do not think I could ever find a suitor who enjoys the theatre or the ballet as much as I.”

suddenly, the room was encased in silence as the next party was announced, “Duke Steven Harrington and the Dowager Duchess Harrington of Maple.”

steve’s brown eyes scanned over the attendees with little interest as he assisted his mother down the grand staircase. there were already plenty of ladies who seemed set to speak with him. he noted their eager faces, secretly planning to avoid him. whilst he circled the room in search of a friend, you were occupied on the dancefloor with a gentleman who spoke very little but seemed to express some interest in you. 

when you returned to your brother’s side, you discovered him speaking with the man of the hour. His brown eyes spotted you before your brother did, drifting across your frame and drinking in the vision that moved before him. once your brother noticed that the Duke’s attention had moved elsewhere, he turned to find none other than his own sister. 

“Oh, Harrington, you must meet my darling little sister,” your brother gestured between the two of you, introducing your names. 

you automatically swooped into a curtsy, hoping it hid the flush of your cheeks, “Your grace.”

Steve smiled. Something soft that he hadn’t known for years now filled his chest. He offered out his hand, which you gladly accepted. The smile never left his face as he raised your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your gloved knuckles, “The pleasure is mine, my lady.”