Page 138 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

THEO

Wednesday, we fucked. It pretty much went like this: I texted for her to be at my house again at six.

She arrived, went to the couch, pulled down her jeans and panties to just below her ass, then bent over the armrest. I’d almost come in my pants, but barely held off until I got her to come twice, my dick buried nice and deep.

Oh, and my thumb in her ass. Then we’d gotten delivery from the Thai restaurant Mallory recommended, then, before she could put her chopsticks down, I manhandled her onto the floor and ate her out until she came.

Twice. Yeah, I was a fucking caveman with the best dessert ever.

Only then did I flip her over, pull her up on her knees and pull her hair as I took her from behind again.

Thursday. Yeah, Thursday. Sex was… adventurous. Holy fucking hell.

It was snowing and the roads were shit. I said I’d pick her up.

Not that she didn’t drive in snow all winter long and she’d already been out in it going to work, but still.

She’d resisted, but I told her the only way she’d sit on my lap and ride my dick–a position we hadn’t done yet–was if I picked her up.

That was how I discovered she was staying at Lindy’s house.

I brushed the snow off my head and coat when she let me in the front door. “Why are you staying here?” I asked.

She quickly shut the door behind me, cutting off the cold air.

She had on a black skirt with a flannel shirt and must’ve ditched her boots by the door because she only had tights that covered her legs and feet.

“Because my roommate got engaged and her boyfriend–fiancé–moved in with her and they’re fucking like rabbits. I don’t want to hear it.”

I grinned, reached out and stroked her cheek. It clearly bothered her. I guess if I had a roommate ever, I’d be annoyed too. Probably jealous of them getting some and I wasn’t. “We fuck like rabbits,” I reminded.

“I thought rabbits had sex all the time. We only have it scheduled for six.”

“Do you want it at another time?” I asked. I’d schedule it for whenever she wanted.

She raised a brow as if the question was odd.

“While she didn’t kick me out on the street, I need to be out by the end of the month,” she continued. “The sex spurred me to relocate quickly.”

I looked around. Lindy’s house–Bridge’s too, technically, although she was permanently in Mav’s place–was homey and warm.

Nothing like any house I’d ever lived in.

My parents’ house had been a mansion. Massive.

A showpiece. My apartment in Denver was where I slept and not much else since I’d pretty much lived at the hospital.

Dex’s apartment had been the same way. He was rarely there, traveling for hockey for most of the year.

But Lindy was putting her stamp on the place now that it was hers as well.

Mav’s rental here was huge. And looked like a ski lodge.

It wasn’t their permanent house. I figured they would build something once the James Inn was complete.

Silas’ place wasn’t all that much different.

We never had a home like this one as an example.

The furniture was a random mix of old stuff from her parents' time and new pieces they must’ve picked up over the years.

The kitchen appeared to have some brand-new appliances, probably a result of the tree falling on the house over the summer. It was lived in and comfortable.

“Nice place,” I commented. “Cozy.”

Mallory looked around, smiled at the place fondly. As if it were a person and she had intense feelings for it. “I pretty much grew up here. Lindy’s pretty much my mom, but don’t tell her that because she’ll feel old. See that dent in the wall?”

I looked to where she pointed.

“I was mad when I didn’t get the role of Sandy in the school musical Grease and I kicked the wall.”

I knew the movie and imagined Mallory as Sandy. All sweet and innocent, but underneath, naughty as fuck. Yeah, that was her all right.

“Stay here then. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

She shook her head, moved into the family room. “No. It’s not mine. I’m okay crashing here, but I won’t take advantage.”

I frowned. “I’m sure Lindy and Bridget won’t think that way.”

“I’m getting a place of my own. The little house I told you about. It’s going to be mine.”

The gleam of determination in her eyes made me proud.

It also made me want to see it happen. It sounded like she got the shaft from her mother–which I could relate–and needed a place to call her own.

I wanted to help her. To make her life easier.

To see her smile. There was something about Mallory I couldn’t get enough of, and it wasn’t just her pussy. Or her unbelievably talented mouth.

“I won’t have to worry about roommates,” she continued. “Or parents. Or listening to others having sex.”

I approached her then, cupped her jaw, then slid my hand around to tangle my fingers in her ponytail. Then tugged. “Speaking of sex, I want you to ride me.”

Her eyes widened and a flush swept prettily up her neck and cheeks. “Ride you?”

I nodded, took her hand and pulled her over to the couch. From my back pocket, I pulled out a condom I tucked in there before I left my place and dropped it onto one of the cushions. Then I went to work on the buttons of her shirt.

She licked her lips.

“That way you set the pace. And I can lick and suck on your pretty nipples.”

A slow smile crept across her face. One thing about Mallory, she wasn’t shy. When she liked something, she went for it. Like that blow job the other day. I’d been imagining her on my lap, cock buried deep all fucking day.

She reached for my jeans as I pushed her top off her shoulders. She let it fall to the floor as she got my zipper down, then jeans and boxers lowered. Barely. My dick sprang out as if eager and excited for her.

With a hand on my chest, she pushed and I dropped down on the couch. I couldn’t help but laugh, then it ended quickly when she gave me the naughtiest, sexiest looks. Like me and my dick were at her mercy.

She reached under her skirt, worked the tights and–hopefully–her panties down and off. When she stood and moved to climb on my lap, I stopped her.

“Wait. Lift your skirt.”

She frowned, not pleased to be stalled in her quest to ride my dick. But I needed to know she was ready. And I wanted a little show.

Grabbing the bottom of the flared material which fell to just above her knees, she raised it. Higher. Higher still until it was about her waist in the front and I could see her pussy.

“Wet?” I asked. “Need to make sure that pussy’s ready for me.”

She put her fingers between her thighs and swiped, and fuck me, raised her fingers to show me they were glistening. She was soaked.

“Get over here, woman,” I growled.

She took a step closer, and I was able to hook a hand around her waist and pull her down.

Once she was settled with her knees on either side of my hips, she put her sticky fingers to my lips and I sucked them clean.

Now her taste was on my tongue and I was addicted.

To her, to the fact that she was right here with me. Eager. Ready.

I reached for the condom and had that fucker on in record time.

“Up,” I growled, and she went up on her knees. Grasping the base of my covered dick, I lined it up with her entrance. “Down.”

And that was the last of me being in control. Because Mallory rode my dick with a wild abandon that made me lose my fucking mind.

She was rocking and bucking like a cowgirl on the back of a mustang.

Her cries of pleasure, my name and every swear word she didn’t want to say echoed off the family room walls.

I wasn’t all that quiet either. I told her she was a good girl.

That she rode me so well. That her pussy was made just for my dick and only my dick.

I may have even said take it, take all of it.

Until the doorbell rang, and she froze with my dick buried deep.

Turning our heads, we looked out the front window. There, at the curb, was a police car, blue emergency lights spinning on top, an officer at the door.

So as for Thursday’s sex with Mallory? It was so good that the neighbor, Mr. VanMeyer, thought someone was being murdered.

Friday morning, I told Verna I was going to be a little late, went and bought Mallory a house and the old man next door some ear plugs.