Page 4 of Locked Up by The Libra
Grumbling a thank you at him, I wait for him to head back to his desk. Turning back to my computer, I see the information I need. Data I have no damn right to. Still, there it is. I glance anxiously out at the office once more before I dismiss the two out front.
Willa Duchane. Billionaire heiress to a steel fortune. From upstate, where you would expect her stature of socialite to be from. Seeing a line of several arrests, I chuckle. Sweet Willa is a little activist who doesn’t mind having cuffs slapped on. God, why does that make me hard?
Half a dozen arrests, none of the charges sticking of course. All from protests, plenty with media coverage, my pretty little jailbird grinning big for the cameras. Well, hell I guess I know what brought her here to Driftwood. Mack had some trouble a while back with some protestors, unaware of their sustainable model.
“Come to raise some hell, sugar?”
Grinning as I read several stories of Willa stirring things up, I recall her opening that door to me. That tiny towel did nothing to hide those delicious curves of hers. Ones I felt in my hands as her soft whimpers filled my ears. God, she felt good beneath me. Her skin tasted so sweet.
My cock leaks in my slacks as I recall how shebeggedme. How she called me daddy. How her pussy soaked my beard as I buried my face between her creamy thighs. Her clit in my mouth, swollen and throbbing as I sucked at it, my fingers pumping into her.
“Fuck, I need it again,” I grunt as I rub at my stiff shaft.
How am I going to make that happen? Can I just go back there and knock on her hotel door, hoping she will let me get another taste? If she is here to protest, to cause trouble for the landing, the sheriff coming for her might scare her off.
“Can’t have that. Willa can’t leave Driftwood.”
Finishing some paperwork as I find as much data as I can about my sweet Willa, I know I am crossing a line. I have no right to use my police powers for this. If I want to know about her, I ought to just go talk to her. I ought to ask what the hell this afternoon was about.
Thinking about how needy she was, how hungry for my touch earlier, I become enraged. If another man came to her door, would she have drawn him in the same way she did me? Imagining someone else touching her, tasting her, hearing her sounds as they please her drives me mad. I shoot to my feet and rush from the station, heading back towards the hotel.
“What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?”
Parked in the same spot I hid at earlier, I shake my head. I am a new Sherriff here, a new resident, still earning the trust of the people of Driftwood. Fooling around with some heiress here to disrupt a huge source of livelihood for its residents might be a bad idea.
Sitting in the dark watching her room feels wrong. Another line crossed. I should go home. Back to my empty cabin on the mountain. As much as that cabin was a selling point in my coming here, it sure has felt lonelier than I thought. Nestled at the base of the mountain, it is cozy, big enough for me and my dog Fletch.
It is also just big enough to fill with my thoughts. Dark thoughts about how I wound up forty and alone. About how no relationship I ever tried worked. Not with my parents, not with my brother, and not with any women. They all say the same thing—I am too closed off.
“Fuck them,” I whisper in the dark as I fill with unease.
Watching Willa’s hotel room, I sigh sadly. This is nuts. This is intrusive and borderline illegal. Stalking a stranger. What the hell am I thinking? Her light flickers on, making my heart sputter. Oh, I know exactly what I am thinking.
I want that door to open again, this time with her wanting it to be me. This time with her bare in the moonlight. Her perky tits wet the way they were earlier, the dusty nipples swollen and hard. I groan as I imagine her pussy dripping down her thighs, her hand dropping to show me how wet she is for me.
“Fuck, sugar,” I grunt in the emptiness of my cruiser. I yank at my zipper, pulling my cock out.
Watching the room, my breathing picks up as her curtains slide open. Oh, hell, there she is. Even from a distance, I can make out the silhouette of her body. With moonlight showcasing her perfection, I see she is in tiny white panties. Nothing else. Those perfect tits bounce slightly with her breathing as she gazes out into the dark.
“Bad girl,” I hiss, slowly twisting my fist up my cock. “Told you once not to show off your perfection. I ought to come spank that sweet ass.”
God, just thinking of bending her over, her little wrists shackled with my handcuffs makes my dick leak cum. I want to kick that door down and shove my hard cock down her throat to punish her. Make her gag on me as I tell her what a bad girl she is. But she would be my good girl. She would let me come down her silky throat as she called me daddy and begged me not to spank her.
I would anyway—because we both know it would make her drip.
“Fuck,” I pant as I jerk my cock, watching her in the dark. Willa turns from the window, and I see her heart shaped ass as she throws herself on the bed. What a show she is putting on for me. I fuck my fist, panting her name as I come all over myself in the cruiser.
“Good girl, sugar,” I whimper as I watch her come back to the window, closing it.
I let myself think she was waiting for me to come back. Waiting for me to find her half naked, waiting for my cock to fill her. To fuck her to sleep before she goes up to the mountain to raise hell. Not that I can let her do that. And I smile as I consider how much fun it will be to stop her.
Will webothlove it once I slap my handcuffs on her?
Chapter Three
Willa
Saving the world is kicking my ass.
