Page 16 of Ain’t Pucking Sorry (2-Hour Quickies #8)

Massimo

The station empties quickly. Reese releases the grandmas with a warning that leaves them beaming like they've won the lottery instead of narrowly avoiding jail time. They file out, Birdie wearing her sunglasses again.

Reese stands by the window, arms crossed, watching them leave. The afternoon light catches in her hair, turning it to fire.

"You were right," she says, facing me now. "I was so focused on proving myself that I couldn't see past the easy answer."

I take a step closer. "And I pushed too hard because I couldn't stand the thought of you seeing me as just another charming face."

"I never did." Her voice catches. "I saw you, Massimo. All of you. Your intelligence, your kindness, the way you look at people and really see them."

I close the distance, stopping just short of touching her. "I'm sorry," I say. "For what I said. For leaving."

"I'm sorry too." Her eyes meet mine, clear and unguarded. "For not trusting what I knew about you."

"We both have scars we’ve learned to hide," I murmur, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "But not from each other anymore."

She leans into my touch. "Turns out we needed our own GRIT intervention. The grandmas saw that we're perfect for each other."

"That we're better together." I trace the curve of her jaw.

"Lock the door," she gasps.

"Already did." I grin against her throat.

"Be quiet. Grandmas are listening."

“I missed you,” I whisper against her ear. “Three days felt like forever.”

“Then don’t leave again,” she says, and I can feel her heart pounding against mine.

“Not unless you’re coming with me,” I say, backing her slowly toward her desk. “There’s a great job waiting for you in Dayton. We’ll find it… but first, Italy.”

“I’d love to see Venice.”

“You’ll be back in the States with ten more pounds after meeting my mom.”

Her smile curves against my mouth. “I love Italian meatballs… with a baguette.”

I guide her backward, out of the office, past the booking counter, toward the holding cell where I’d been locked up our first night. She catches on instantly, her breath hitching when her back brushes the bars.

“You’re really—”

“Yeah,” I cut in, taking the key from her belt and swinging the cell door open. The clang echoes in the empty station, and it makes my blood run hotter. “Inside, Sheriff.”

She steps in, chin high like she’s still in charge, but her pupils are blown wide. I press her up against the cold bars, my body pinning hers. My hands go to her wrists, lifting them above her head until she’s stretched just enough for the uniform shirt to pull tight over her breasts.

“Deputy—”

I take the handcuffs from her belt, snap one cold ring around her wrist, then the other to the horizontal bar just above her head. She tugs once, testing it, and the small sound she makes when it holds is enough to undo me.

“No teasing this time,” she whispers, her voice unsteady. “I want you now.”

“Teasing’s for tonight,” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear. “Right now…” My hands slide down the front of her shirt, cupping her through the fabric, feeling her nipples harden against my palms. “…this is just the appetizer.”

She gasps when I shove her shirt and bra up over her breasts, baring them completely. I bend my head, take one peak into my mouth, sucking hard while my other hand kneads the other breast. She arches into me, her cuffs clinking softly against the bar.

Her hips press forward, and I can feel the heat of her through the stiff fabric of her uniform pants. I make quick work of her belt, popping the button and dragging the zipper down, my knuckles brushing the soft curls beneath.

Her breath stutters. “Massimo—”

I shove her pants and panties down in one move, letting them pool at her ankles. My own pants are next, shoved low enough to free my cock, thick and already straining. I stroke myself once, guiding the head between her thighs, sliding along her slick folds just to feel how ready she already is.

“I can’t wait another second,” I growl. “I need to be inside you now.”

She tilts her hips, and I thrust forward, burying myself to the hilt in one deep, claiming stroke. I grip under her ass, lifting just enough to change the angle, holding her steady against the bar as I drive into her. The heat and tightness of her makes me groan into her neck.

“Oh, God,” she breathes, her head tipping back against the bar.

I start to move—hard, deep, each thrust pulling a gasp or a moan from her lips. Her breasts bounce with the rhythm, her nipples brushing my chest every time I slam forward.

The cell bars rattle faintly with each movement, the sound filthy and perfect.

“You feel… so damn good,” I grit out, driving into her faster. “Three days without you, and I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

She tries to rise onto her toes, tilting her hips to take me even deeper, the bunched fabric at her ankles forcing her stance wide. “Then don’t… ever… stop.”

I obey, pounding into her, the wet sound of us filling the air, mixing with her breathless cries. I kiss her mouth, her jaw, the spot under her ear that makes her shiver, never slowing the relentless pace.

Her walls start to flutter around me, her head thrashing against the bar. “Massimo… I’m—”

“That’s it,” I rasp, holding her wrists tighter above her head as I fuck her harder. “Come for me, Reese. Let me feel you.”

She shatters, her body clenching around me, dragging me over the edge with her. I spill deep inside her with a low, raw groan, grinding against her until every last pulse has faded.

For a moment, neither of us moves, our bodies still locked together, foreheads pressed as we breathe the same air. Then I reach up, uncuff her wrists, kissing the faint red marks the metal left behind.

She lets her arms drop around my shoulders, holding me close while I ease out of her, tucking myself away and helping her pull her clothes back into place.

"Sheriff, I think you should arrest me again."

"On what charges?"

"Breaking and entering." I kiss the spot below her ear that makes her shiver. "I'm about to break into your heart and I'm not leaving."

She laughs, the sound turning into a gasp as my teeth graze her neck. "That's terrible!"

"You love it," I say as I keep kissing her face. "You love me."

The words slip out before I can stop them, hanging in the air between us.

She goes still, her eyes widening. For one terrifying moment, I think I've ruined everything.

Then she smiles—not her professional smile or her polite smile, but something softer, more vulnerable than I've ever seen.

"I do," she whispers. "God help me, I do."

Than you for being here. —Livvy Stone

THE END