Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

P rey

Kandie

My legs are burning as I try to put as much distance between Ulysses' low-down ass and me. I'm fast, but I can hear him gaining. "Oh, my Lord. Please, please, please don't let him catch me." I know that prayer is probably hitting on ignoring ears because I know Sky Daddy doesn't take too kindly to burning folks' stuff up.

I don't know what made me come this way. Way out here where my daddy built our house — instinct, I guess.

I pause at a tree, a stitch in my side making me take deep breaths. I don't even know at this point.

Pine sap coats my hand, crickets chirp, and I know there are more than a few critters out here. Nothing too dangerous. There aren't any bobcats out this way. That's more out by Mimi's house. Our families watch their migration just so that we don't mistakenly run up on any cubs because they are close to becoming endangered and Mama-Pete made a deal with the forestry service just so our land could be protected as an animal reserve. One more roadblock for those greedy ass Shelbys.

Speaking of the worst of the absolute worst, I have the biggest baddest of them all hunting me. "Run." He said, "As far and fast as you can." And what did I do? Exactly what he said like a dumbass running farther and farther out so that he'd have no witnesses for whatever he intends.

The look of shock and awe on his face was priceless and worth whatever ass whooping he's planning. It's what he gets for disrespecting me like that with that hoe-ass LaShaun. He's the one who made it so everyone knew we were together. Plus, going around telling people then having her hanging all over him. Nope. Nopity. Nope. Nope. I was going to just flatten all his tires, but then I got to thinking, what did he love most in this world besides his mom? His truck. Just like every guy around here.

"Ah." I clamp my hand over my mouth when I hear a rustle of leaves from the underbrush. Heart hammering, I duck down, stitch paining my side. The trees around here vary between stick thin babies to ultra thick hundred-year-old pines and oaks. I step behind one just as I catch a glint of blond hair shining in the moonlight. I guess that Seal training didn't quite take, and I guess he forgot this is my home.

I stifle the need to taunt him and brag.

"I know you're here, wildcat." His voice sounds guttural, almost scary in a totally inappropriately sexy way.

"I can smell you. The more you sweat running from me, the stronger your scent mixes with the vanilla-rose you're wearing." I almost sniff myself. What is he saying? He's tracking me by scent?

"Y'all make that shit to ensnare men, but once you do, we can scent you anywhere. It's like a compass telling me exactly where you are." I don't dare peek, scared he's going to find me.

My breathing is starting to speed up and honestly, I don't know if it's fear or the growl in his voice evoking the sensations I definitely shouldn't be having in my body from a man stalking me through the woods like a fox on a rabbit.

"Wildcat," he calls, soft and cajoling. He's close, much too close to me. "When I catch you, I'm fucking you."

A shadow falls to the right of me. I jump out of his reach just as his arms swipe forward.

Side pain forgotten as the adrenaline kicks in, spurring me forward, I jump, clearing a bush, barely noticing the way the spiky leaves scratch the skin on my legs.

"Game on," he calls after me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I notice he's not even pursuing me, just watching me, his teeth bared like some type of feral animal. I head toward the clearing I know will take me to the property that once belonged to my family. There's a shed, and a barn left unscathed by the fire. It's still standing and sturdy and, like everything Daddy made, they both have hidden passages. All I have to do is make it to the other side of the clearing.

I chance a glance back to Ulysses and he's still there watching me run, seeming to be visibly holding himself back. Then his gaze snags mine, he licks his lips, and a wild smile spreads across his lips. He leaps, seeming to clear all the vast underbrush in one huge leap. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I remember he was also a track and field athlete. The scream falling from my lips pierces the sky. I'm sure it can be heard all the way to the city center. I can just hear them saying I deserve everything he's doing to me. Trucks are sacred down here and that's a fact.

Screaming and running, I can't help but keep looking over my shoulder as he eats up the distance behind me.

"No, no, noo," I scream as he barrels down on me, my legs pumping like my life depends on it. He didn't say nothing about killing me, but he never said he wasn't either. I guess that would make the problem with Angel solved.

The ground shifts. Then I'm airborne, locked in his arms as he takes me down, rolling so he takes most of the impact.

Strong arms are clamped around me like a vise, locking me in place, so I can't move, not even really shift my head. There will be no headbutts or elbows to get my freedom.

Heart racing, I look up at the starry night, trying to catch my breath. Do I try to reason with him? Beg? Hell no. Was it the right thing to do? Nope. But it felt good as hell to do it.

"Okay, you made your point. You can go to your diabetes spreading girlfriend," I pant when I can finally hold air in my lungs again. My heart is still beating like all get-out.

In one swift movement, he flips us and I'm on my back, cool grass pressing against the thin material of my shirt.

"Nah, I don't think I made my point at all." His gaze leaves mine, traveling to the rapid rise and fall of my breasts.

"Fuccck," he growls, burying his head between them, inhaling deep. "You're a fucking witch." He drags the material aside, making one dark areola pop free. He covers it with his hot mouth.

A strangled gasp is all I can manage as he consumes me.

Groaning, he sucks my flesh deep into his mouth, kicking my thighs open at the same time, pressing his heavy dick into my now aching pussy. Just like before, he does the same to the other one. The warm southern night air caresses my skin, making my nipples wet from his mouth pucker harder in the light breeze.

Squeezing them together he sucks, flicks, taking long drags that make his hard chiseled jaw hollow out.

"You're a fucking menace, you know that?" Face still hard, voice still rough, his eyes tell another story. He probably hates that he wants me so badly, needs me so much.

"Stop fucking blaming me for being a weak ass bitch when it comes to me, U. You're a grown ass man." Baring my teeth at him for a brief moment, I lean in, licking his already damp lips.

He slams his mouth down on mine, not wanting me to win even in this. He just doesn't know I already have.

Something snapped in me seeing that woman's arms snaked around him. All I saw was red. He's lucky I'm somewhat reformed, otherwise I would have stabbed his ass right there in front of everyone.

Wriggling, I free my arms from the trap he's placed them in. Spearing my fingers into the nearly platinum locks glinting in the moonlight, I pull him closer, tighter, like I want our souls to merge. Maybe he does too because he doesn't resist. He sinks deeper, his big body pressing me into the soft grass.

"Here." He snatches away, his ice-blue eyes blazing like a flame. "Right fucking here." Pulling his shirt over his head, he tosses it away. Grabbing my shorts, he tugs in rough movements until he realizes they ain't budging fast enough over my thick curves. He leans back, making a quick assessment before he pushes my thighs further apart. Before the no is out of my mouth, he's gripped the middle seam and ripped them with a brutal wrench of the material.

"You motherfucker." Lunging forward, I slap at his chest, but his evasion makes it end up being a scratch. I can't help the satisfaction that wells inside me when I see bright red welts form over his pecs. There's even a little blood welling there, making me positively giddy.

Hard hands manacle my throat, slamming me back into the grass. "You fucking need minding constantly." He shakes me a little. "Still not wearing panties? Walking around in those tiny ass shorts with my pussy out for all the world to see." My breath catches as he tightens his grip for emphasis.

The inquiry doesn't deserve an answer. "I don't belong to your alabaster ass no matter how much you hulk smash through the woods. You had another woman all but riding your dick in front of everyone. Everyone." That last part comes out raw and laced with much more hurt than I intend.

If I was expecting compassion, I should have known better. Instead, a cruel smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Then now you know exactly how I felt coming back here hearing how you been riding dick like a cowgirl on the rodeo circuit rides bulls. Fuck you." His hands tighten. "You are mine. Mine." He gives me a hard shake. "Don't fucking play with me."

"I'm not," I gasp. He shifts, pressing his dick at my entrance.

"Then tell me no." He presses against my flesh for emphasis. He watches me as I say nothing. Eyes chips of hard ice, face carved out of granite, the head of his dick piercing like a diamond point, he pushes into me. His eyes flutter closed a second before my own do from the delicious pleasure pain as he stretches me wide to fit him.

"You've got some good ass pussy." Opening my eyes, I meet his gaze. He looks at me in reverence as he starts fucking me.

"Lashaun offered. I told her no." He withdraws, then pushes in with an agonizing intensity. "She said you could join us, but I don't want to share you with anyone, wildcat."

Withdrawing, he squeezes my throat. "You're mine." Harder this time until he bottoms out. "Mine." He bites his lip, grinding hard and deep against my pussy, making me quake. "Mine." Harder. "Say it, wildcat. Tell me this is my pussy." He slams home, fucking me with deep punishing strokes that make my teeth click and my breath tighten in my chest.

"Yours." I can't catch my breath enough to speak. He's literally destroying me on my ancestral land and all I can do is let him. "I'm yours, U."

His crazy grin is back as his hips pummel me, slamming, grinding taking me relentlessly.

Arching my hips to take more, I snatch his ass closer by the hair, dragging his face to mine. "I don't share either, motherfucker." Fucking him back, I pump my hips in time with him watching ecstasy walk across his grave. He has to grit his teeth to keep from coming. Sweat prickles his brow, then drips, splashing onto mine.

I clamp my muscles around his dick, making his eyes roll back. He buries his face in my throat, fighting for his life. He bites, throwing me off. I relax my hold in reflex. Sucking my flesh hard, he leaves his mark. His hips pistoning, hitting my spot, I feel the first bursting spasm. Holding me steady, making me take every punishing thrust, he reaches between us, his fingers playing with my clit.

"Come on my fingers and my dick, wildcat. Yeah, that's it, grip my dick like a good girl," he growls in my ear, fucking me. My treacherous body binds to his will, his naughty words doing exactly as he demands spiraling beyond my control. My muscles grip and pulse around his dick like it's a life force, while my essence spills over his fingers, giving him the answer he wants.

Hips snapping from his loss of control thrust into me over and over, driving me into another climax of toe-curling bliss.

"Kandie," he shouts, coming right behind me, his hips driving in a relentless rhythm.

For long minutes, we stay lying together. His heavy body pressing me into the grass, the night surrounding us, animals scurrying from all the noise we were making moments earlier. Honeysuckle and camellias tickle my nose.

I can hear his breath sawing in and out. His dick is still hard and pulsing inside of me. I'm staring at sweat slicking his chest. I'm pressed so close I can smell his deodorant and the clean scent of his flesh, mixed with the musk of his exertions from chasing me.

Slowly, he withdraws. Up on his knees, he tucks his still hard dick back in his pants. Eyes unreadable on me, he stitches my shirt closed back over my breasts.

"Get up," he snarls. Grabbing my elbow, he snatches me up. Stopping to pick up his shirt, I'm curious when he doesn't immediately put it back on.

When we get back to his truck, he puts the shirt on the passenger seat before shoving me inside, not so gently. He grabs another shirt from the back seat, buttoning it up, his gaze hard and troubled like he's mad he fucked me.

Several minutes later after driving the whole way back to town in silence I turn to him when he passes my bakery. "Where are you taking me?"

"Jail. Kandie Love, you're under arrest for arson," he says, not even bothering to look my way.

It's so late when we get there. He at least had the decency to cover me in this oversized sheriff's flack jacket.

"I got it, Lydia," he tells the deputy on duty who's doing her best to catch a glimpse of my face. If she notices the dirt and grass stains all over us she doesn't say anything.

"Who's on patrol?" Ulysses asks, pulling the roster. "Never mind, I got it." Then he pulls out a radio. "Garcia," he waits for a response his hand tightening on me rather unnecessarily in my opinion.

"Yeah, Sheriff," comes the voice over the surprisingly clear line.

"Where are you? You were supposed to relieve Lydia." Ulysses waves Lydia off before going to lock the main door.

"The assistant pastor had a blowout, and I was giving him a pull back to town," he says, clearly worried about being in trouble with the sheriff.

"Ah, okay then. When you're done, I need you to do one more favor for me. Go out to county line road eleven and haul Pa-Pete's truck back to their house." Surprised, I look at him. He didn't have to do that. He could have just left my stuff out there. It's not like someone from the family would mess with it other than haul it back to my grandaddy's house.

"Thanks," he says, clicking the comm off.

"Don't fucking move," he grits out, dropping my arm. He goes over to lock the main doors with a key he pockets.

"What happens if people get arrested or need help?" I ask as he grabs my arm again.

"Scared you won't be able to escape with the new locks in place?" I almost laugh that they felt like they had to change the locks on the jail to keep me from walking out of the place when I get ready.

I know better than to say anything — that doesn't stop me, though. "What are you going to say when they start spreading rumors that you keep me in here all night to yourself?"

Ignoring me, he drags me further into the small admin wing of the jail. We walk past the darkened offices and head down a short flight of stairs that opens up to a gym. Workout equipment lines the walls. We walk through the room to the back double doors. As many times as I have been arrested, I've never been in this part of the building.

"This equipment is new?" asking, I look around at the still gleaming apparatuses.

"Maybe a year. No excuses not to meet the fitness requirements," he grumbles with a tug. "C'mon."

"It's not like I can get away. And even if I do, all you are going to do is chase me down, anyway." I tug, but he only snatches me back.

"You're damn right." He pulls me through the rear door.

We step into a dark room that smells of pine cleaner. He flips the light on and bright illumination pours in. There are six shower stalls, bright and gleaming. Everything in here looks new as well.

"Well, I see you're at least making good use of the county funds," I quip snidely.

"Strip." Finally letting me go, pulling his shirt over his head, he places it on a nearby bench.

The bench is cold on my naked bottom cheeks where he ripped my shorts off. When I sit to remove my boots, the metal sticks to my bottom. Standing, I untie my shirt, pulling it off. The back is full of grass stains. The same can be said of my spaghetti strap T-shirt that follows. My bra — the most expensive thing I'm wearing is still in good shape. It better be being nearly fifty dollars. It held up fine to his big strong hands, tugging and pulling on it like a mean baby wanting to be fed.

"You need some scissors to get those tight ass shorts off?" The sarcasm is deep as he stands naked like a blond adonis before me. His dick is hard again, and it takes everything in me not to drop to my knees and take it in my mouth like a lollipop.

"Funny, just because your eager beaver ass couldn't wait doesn't mean they are too tight. They fit perfectly. In fact, I got a lot of compliments." I know I'm playing with fire the minute I see his gaze darken with rage.

I don't back down. In fact, I take my own sweet time wiggling the torn shorts down over my hips. Then just as I reach the crest of my bottom, I turn, bending over to work them the rest of the way down, looking at the hunger in his gaze as he watches me.

"You're buying me new ones," I say, dropping them in the trash as I sashay by him to the shower.

Turning the nozzle, I step back to give the water a chance to warm. I hit a hard chest and feel an even harder dick pressed against my ass.

"Eep," I gasp as his hand snakes around my middle. "Go to your own shower," I whisper over my shoulder.

"No," he says, dropping a shower cap over my hair and pushing me under the water.

The hot water hits my face. I tilt my head back into his chest, letting the spray soothe me. It must feel good to him too. He must have grabbed a clean washcloth from somewhere, soaps it, then starts washing me with long sure sweeps of his hands.

Resting against him, I relax, letting him bathe me like he's in worship. All my aches seem to melt away under the strokes of his hands. His breath is steady, the rise and fall of his chest a meditation. For some strange reason, I feel so safe with him. Safer than I have ever felt since the time before my family was torn apart. Not even then, I suddenly realize, because my parents were under constant scrutiny, having to prove themselves worthy of us. So in actuality now and that brief time before when he came home on leave is the only time I felt safe and protected. Something lodges in my throat, making me turn into his chest. Strong arms still encasing me, he makes broad strokes along my spine. He dips to his hunches, making my lower half clean before rising. Tugging me close, he holds me for a long time, seeming to sense what I can't say. In this moment I don't feel judge for my drinking and wild ways. I just feel cherished and protected.

I grab the other cloth he left on the inset caddy and begin to return the favor, washing him in return. My circles are smaller, but just as thorough.

When his upper body is covered in sudsy goodness, I push his shoulders, making him turn so I can clean his broad back. Dropping low, I wash his legs, then with a nudge I have him turn. Starting at his feet, I make my way up his muscled legs and thighs. When I reach his dick, I take my time torturing him. With deft hands I clean his shaft and sac, taking my time to roll them in my fingers before using my nails to wash the dark blond thatch of hair at the base.

"All clean." The words are soft, almost hesitant in their invitation.

"Wildcat—"

"Rinse off, U," I command.

His brow quirks, dragging me under the shower. "You don't boss me, woman."

But he doesn't say a word when I drop to my haunches and demand that he fuck my mouth. In fact, he does exactly what I say.