Chapter Four

Outlaw

Faith’s arms wrap around my waist and cling tight. Her hands are small, and her frame is too. The warmth of her breath tickles the back of my neck as I ride, and I struggle to keep the bike on the road.

I don’t know what the hell is happening to me. I don’t make mistakes. I don’t let my feelings get wrapped up in my work. I find my targets and I take them in. I don’t waver, I don’t second guess, and I certainly don’t give criminals second chances.

Cold wind slaps me in the face as we climb the mountain toward the cabin at the edge of the falls. After a long stressful day, this place is heaven to come home to. A long dirt road and the water crashing and splashing in the distance. It’s incredible and some days it’s hard to believe it’s all mine.

“Holy shit! This is your house?” The enthusiasm in her tone excites me but I need to block this out. I can’t spend months turning into a soft, bitch boy because some woman with thick hips, big tits, and a sad story rolls in.

I kill the engine on the bike and climb off, ignoring her. She can climb off on her own. For some reason, I’m pissed off at myself now. She shouldn’t have had to climb off without help.

“Wow!” Her eyes are darting everywhere, and though it’s dark, she’s noticing every detail. “So… did you build this?”

I unlock the front door. “Yes.” My answers from now on will be yes or no. It’s the easiest way to stay detached emotionally.

Her tone lifts as we step inside and she says, “This is incredible! Like you built it with your own two hands? Everything? Even this countertop?” She pushes her soft hand across the butcher block and stares up at me in awe.

“Yes.” I’ve never had anyone appreciate the craftsmanship of my work before. It feels good.

“Wow. I always wanted to build something useful, you know? One time I thought I’d build these benches, and I got wood and screws and all the things, and they like… wiggled apart. So, I smartened up and got brackets and then… they wiggled apart again. It did take longer for them to wiggle apart the second time.”

I try not to smile or tell her what could have been the problem or offer a suggestion for future bench building. Instead, I nod and reach for a beer.

“How long did this take?” she asks, still wandering.

Fuck. I can’t answer this with a yes or no. So, I switch to single word answers.

“Two years.” Fuck! That was two words.

“That’s not that bad. Not with all the detail you put into everything.” She walks around the space, running her hand across the wood on the shelves, the molding, and the cabinetry. “I’ve never had anything this nice in my life. We live in this little trailer, and it floods all the time. We’ve had to evacuate for every hurricane, and each time we come back the place is swamped, but we can’t afford anything else. Last year we finally replaced the flooring from hurricane Isaac because my mom’s asthma was getting so bad from the mold and stuff.” She holds up her hands. “Not to sound ungrateful, because I am. There’s a lot of people without roofs over their head at all. I just… this is gorgeous. You did a really nice job.”

“Thank you.” I want to say more. I want to know about her, about her life, about her passions, her goals. I want to know when her birthday is, what makes her smile, what kinds of jokes she finds funny, what she does when she’s not robbing banks, how she smells in the morning, what she sounds like when she comes, what her face looks like when she’s…

Jesus fucking hell!

“What do you do for fun?” She sits on the sofa with a broad grin like she’s not living second to second. “I mean, when you’re not being a big, tough, criminal catcher.”

“Fishing.” Apparently, I’m back to one-word answers.

“I bet you can catch lots of stuff in that river. Do you have family around here or—”

“No.” I sip my beer and contemplate how much longer I can take this. Her soft lips were on my cock an hour ago. I want them back again. I want to abuse all this power I’ve just found and order her on her knees to suck me dry. Then I want to pick her up, carry her into my bed, and make her tell me every detail about herself until we both fall asleep and wake up in the morning without this bounty hanging over our heads.

This was a mistake. I’m never going to make it eight weeks.

“I’m going to bed. Follow me to your room.”

“Oh.” She speaks as though she’s disappointed.

Why do I ache like I don’t want to disappoint her?

Her heat follows close behind as I guide her down the hall toward the back room. This is the first time I’ve thought about how she could escape. I have no alarms, and at any point in the night she could climb out the window or make a run for the door. Nothing would stop her. If I were her, I would leave first chance I got. Sure, we’re chatty now but trust isn’t something I give out. It’s earned. She hasn’t earned it.

“You’re sleeping with me.”

She glances toward me. “What?”

“I don’t trust you not to run. You’ll sleep with me until I come up with something else.”

Her brows narrow. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No. You’ll sleep in the bed. It’s big. There’s plenty of space.” I draw in a deep breath. If this were any other situation, I’d offer to take the floor myself, but I’m not letting her think she’s special. This is a need-based scenario. She sleeps next to me so I can feel the bed move. It’s the only security I have right now. So, this is what’s happening. The end.

“Okay.” Her tone sounds embarrassed as she whispers, “Do you have a t-shirt or something? I don’t have anything to wear.”

Fucking hell, this keeps getting worse. I don’t want to see her in my clothes.

I pull open the drawer and toss her a plain black shirt that I haven’t worn in years. I don’t wear it, so seeing her in it won’t be a big deal. It’s just fabric. It’s just fucking fabric.

With the t-shirt on the bed, I turn away and tuck into the bathroom to change. When the door closes behind me, I panic. She could be running out now, heading for the hills, but I need to relax. We’ll have to separate for bathroom breaks. At least now I’m awake so I wouldn’t be far behind if she ran.

I’m really going to need alarms.

For as much as I know, this trip to the bathroom should be short. If I don’t put some cold water on my face or jerk off, I’m not going to make it through the night without dreams of her tight little pussy clenching down on top of me.

Fuck!

I twist on the shower and climb in, running cool water down over my back as I think about what to do next. I can install security tomorrow. In a matter of hours, I could have alarms on all the doors and the windows, run electric wire around the perimeter of the house, and I can jerk off in the shower to keep whatever hormones I’m feeling at bay.

I grip hold of my slick cock and shut my eyes as the water turns warm and my imagination runs back to the bar.

Her curved frame bent in front of me, sucking hard on my cock while she moaned, gagged, licked. She wanted to turn me on. She wanted to make me come.

I stroke my cock faster and faster as thoughts of bending her over and sinking in take over me. My cock inside her tight core, taking her for the first time. She’s so little, so untouched. I imagine tugging her hair and gripping her hips, pulling her into me closer. She’d like that. She’d like my cock deep inside of her. I can tell by the way she touched me, by the way she looked at me afterward. She wants more.

I stroke faster, imagining her silky-smooth pussy on my cock as she bounces and moans. I wonder if she likes it rough. I wonder if she likes to be spanked. I’d slap her tits, spank her ass, and come all over her face before ordering her to lick my cock clean.

My thighs tense and I explode in the shower, biting back a growl as I rinse off this fucked up state of mind.

At least now, I should be able to hold off these urges… for tonight.