Page 77 of Fiona and the Fixer

I’d never interrogated someone like this before. Only Fiona.

“He’s buddies with our boss,” she added. “They need to close cases and my partner can’t do it on his own, so he gloms onto mine. They don’t care about a solid case.”

She was dripping for me and impossible to resist. I lined myself up and gave her my dick nice and slow as I praised her again. I had my hands on her hips, soft and lush. A perfect grip to keep her in place. “Such a good girl. Taking my dick so well.”

Her fingers curled and I felt her hips tip up. I sank deeper.

“But you do?” What was I asking? The edges on my thoughts were getting really fucking blurry.

“I… I do, what?” she couldn’t keep her mind on the conversation. I was barely hanging on, she felt so good. Tight, wet, hot. Perfect.

“You care about a solid case.” I gritted my teeth, and I pulled back, then slammed deep.

She thrashed her head, nodded. “It’s my job to put the bad guys away.”

That black and white thing again.

“Why? Why are you so stuck on that?”

I fucked her slow. Really, really slow.

Sweat dripped down my temple with my restraint. While my dick thought otherwise, this wasn’t about sex.

She bit her lip, didn’t say anything so I pulled almost all the way out and spanked her again.

“Why?”

“Dax! Just fuck me.”

“Nope. Good girls get fucked.”

“I’m a good girl,” she cried.

I ran my fingers over my pink handprint, proving that was debatable.

“Then tell me. Why do you have to make sure all the bad guys are put away?”

“Because they hurt you.”

My fingers flexed on her skin. Oh shit. She had the biggest set of lady balls ever, so it never occurred to me that someone could get to Fiona. But they had.

Someone hurt her.

Everyone got hurt by others, but not everyone gothurt.I may have been a fixer, snipped off one of Jimmy McFee’s fingers, and done all kinds of other shit, but I never, ever touched someone who didn’t have it coming, and especially not a woman.

“What else?” I said, sliding back into her, rewarding her for her words. With her legs together, she was tight as fuck. I set a hand by her head, so I was curved over her body. I kissed her bare shoulder.

“They tell you you’re worthless.” Her head dropped between her shoulders, forehead resting on the desk.

Fuck.

“They kill your mother.”

My lips stilled on her heated skin. What. The. Fuck?

Someone physically and verbally assaulted herandkilled her mother.

I imagined my own mother being killed by a drunk driver and I knew the anger. The need to make things right even when it was impossible. No matter how much fixing I did, my mother wasn’t coming back. Big Mike wasn’t going to be the goofy, fun dad I remembered from before the accident.

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