Page 41 of The Final Straw

“I will, and thank you.” I’m so happy that she handled my case and not the other detective.

Bre and I exit her office and leave the station.

“Let’s get your girl back.”

Kipp

I’m balls deep in Grady when my phone starts going off. Fuck if I’m going to leave my man to speak to whoever it is. That’s why voicemail was invented. You leave a message and if the person wants to call you back, they will.

But when it doesn’t stop, I begin to worry.

Is someone hurt?

Is it Olivia?

Maybe she changed her mind about needing a break.

My thrusts increase, my body on fire about the possibility until I'm shooting my load in Grady's tight ass.

We’re a heaving, panting mess as I slowly pull out of him, my cum dripping from his hole.

“I don’t know what happened, but fuck baby, that was hot. The way you sped up like that at the end.”

We haven’t even been able to clean up before my phone goes off again.

“Who’s that?” he asks, reaching down to the floor, picking up his discarded shirt. He cleans me up and then himself.

“No clue. Let me check. Maybe it’s Olivia.” Grady’s face brightens at my words.

“We can only hope,” he says.

Even if it’s not, we’re already firmly on board the let's win her back train.

I get up from the bed and head to the dresser where my phone is charging. When I pick it up, my smile fades, the corners curving down.

“Who is it?” Grady asks anxiously.

“Jessica,” solemnly falls from my lips.

“What does she want?”

“I don’t know.”

As soon as the ringing stops, it starts back up again. Reluctantly, I swipe up.

“It’s about fucking time you answered. What the hell were you doing? Fucking that homewrecking man again?” Her screeching voice comes through the line so loudly, I have to hold the phone away from my ear.

“Shut up, Jessica,” I bark at her. “You will not speak about my husband like that. It’s none of your business what we do. What are you calling me for, anyway?”

“It’s Barbi. My sweet baby girl has been arrested.”

“What!?” I shout.

“I just told you. She’s been arrested. They’re charging her with rape. You need to get down to the police station and bail her out. We need a lawyer, and I can’t afford one, so you need to do that. We need a good one, the most expensive one you can get to make these accusations go away.”

The boy must have gone to the cops. Good for him. Not that I enjoy the thought of my daughter being behind bars, but maybe this is what she needs to teach her a lesson.

“No,” I tell her bluntly.

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