Page 93 of Traces Of You

At least she trusted him enough in this aspect of her life.

“Oh,” she said, a moan escaping her lips. “Can you go harder?”

She rarely asked him to do anything and that simple, shy request he’d gladly comply with.

As he was trying to bury himself in her, he was slamming in so hard, she shouted out with each thrust, her hand dropping away as her muscles flexed and pulsed over his cock.

She was coming, her nails burning his flesh as she burned him in her pleasure.

His body couldn’t take another minute of it, coming hard inside of her, keeping her pinned to the wall, his forehead hitting the tiles next to her as he sucked in all the air he could muster.

“Are you okay?” she asked, kissing his shoulder.

“I’m perfect,” he said. “And so are you.”

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ANOTHER STATISTIC

“I’m famished. I didn’t think I even had the energy for our shower and then burned even more.”

She reached for a second slice of pizza at the small table off the side of his kitchen. More like a nook between the kitchen and family room with a pretty bay window looking into a fenced-in backyard.

This was the American dream home in her eyes.

Something she’d always wished for and knew she’d never have.

Home ownership wasn’t in the cards for her.

Just being able to afford an apartment on her own was a big enough step she’d yet to climb.

Which didn’t explain why she thought she was going to do this on her own in Canada.

She’d find a way if she had to.

She just hoped it didn’t come to executing her original plan.

This past month gave her a glimpse of a real life. One she always imagined and never thought she could have.

She’d work damn hard to keep it.

“Glad I could help,” he said. He reached for another piece too. “And this pizza never tasted so good.”

She laughed. He smiled when she did. “You should smile more. It makes you more handsome.”

“I think I’m a pretty happy guy,” he said. “Most times.”

“I haven’t seen otherwise. I understand your job is serious and you can’t go around laughing and joking the whole time, but people aren’t fearful of you.”

“Ouch,” he said, his hand going to his heart. “That’s my pride you just pierced.”

“Very cute.” This was the Ford from middle school. The one trying to be playful and work a laugh or smile out of her. “I meant I think they are fearful of crossing you, but not so afraid to approach you.”

“Okay, you redeemed yourself there. That’s been my goal.”

“You’ve achieved it. You can see how everyone views you. At least I can. I saw it today. You’re one of them in that setting, but they still know you’re the sheriff and you will not let infractions slide if they are serious enough.”

“No,” he said. “I can’t. I wouldn’t put my job in jeopardy.”