Chapter 8

I hoped I didn't fuck tonight up.

I wouldn't be able to stop myself from fucking up tonight.

The remainder of my afternoon passed in a blur while I waited for six o'clock to arrive. After lunch, I returned to the station to double-check for any updates on the burglary file. In a surprise to no one, there hadn't been any since I'd checked that morning, but hope sprung eternal and all that bullshit. With nothing new in the file, I went on my usual afternoon patrol. Because of shortages, Cameron and I were, once again, split up.

During the second half of my shift, I handled the standard problems we got on Almstead Island. There were the security checks for the folks who'd registered as out of town and writing a few speeding tickets for folks who didn't plan better to make the afternoon ferry.

Kids always congregated at the skate park, and I liked to swing by at least once a shift. I didn't interrupt them, but being on friendly terms with teenagers around town was never a bad idea. On more than one occasion, they passed on information about friends they were concerned about. That made the extra effort worth it. Plus, they never gave me shit about not being friendly enough. They'd give me a nod, I'd return it, and I'd watch them in peace. When I left, we repeated the process. It was my favorite public interaction every day.

One of my least favorites was neighbor disputes. Mr. Johnston really couldn't believe that he had to keep his dog on a leash, and it wasn't just a beautiful thing for nature to take its course. His hunting dog, Duckie, was the ugliest thing anyone had ever seen, but Mr. Johnston didn't know that. Duckie's legs were too long and skinny for his body, his neck was slung low, giving him a distinct wolf-like appearance, and his teeth were more piranha than dog. His fur was a mottled brown that resembled dirty dishwater mixed with shit. With seriously questionable taste, Ms. Schmidt's sweet cockapoo, Schotze, thought Duckie was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

The lovebirds, Duckie and Schotze, not Mr. Johnston and Mrs. Schmidt, were getting friendly with each other close to the road where the fence was broken. I'd stopped because Mr. Johnston and Mrs. Schmidt were having a heated discussion about who would be more at fault if puppies resulted from their mutual admiration. They each agreed to return home to wait and see if they even needed to be mad at each other. I did not wait around for the dogs to separate because that just felt weird, and their owners promised to behave.

After I got back in my car, I wondered if I'd taken the easy way out in policing by staying here instead of going to a larger city. Portland was only two hours away, and Seattle, including traffic, was only an hour and a half. I could have made more money, probably close to double, by going to a larger department, but what my dad refused to understand was that it meant giving up so much.

There'd be less downtime, so I couldn't read as much. For some reason, audiobooks and I didn't work, so I couldn't even listen to them in my car. Everyone knew how much the I-5 sucked on any given day in any direction, and my current commute was fifteen minutes. My cost of living here, with my grandparents leaving the cabin to me, was minimal. I didn't talk to many neighbors, but I liked knowing who they were and what was happening around me.

My recent assault was a glaring exception to the crimes we typically encountered. I'd tried to explain it to my parents, but they couldn't or wouldn't understand. They never had shit to say about Cameron staying on the same force or Jonas sticking around for a landscaping business. Maybe it was because he wasn't theirs, but they had plenty of shit to say about other things that didn't concern them. It didn't really matter, but it always felt targeted, even if it wasn't.

The chief mentioned some residents had expressed concerns about folks without housing coming over on the ferry. With the cost of rent on the mainland and the remoteness of the island, a few finding their way over wasn't all that surprising. Hell, most of them were all right and just trying to get by like the rest of us. Some folks in town wanted to blame them for the sun coming up, but I didn't see how they'd be the ones doing the burglaries.

The stuff being stolen was what you'd want to unload at a pawn shop, which we didn't have. They'd have to get their loot across via the ferry. They couldn't carry that stuff across, so they'd need a car.

It seemed unlikely that the kind of car a houseless person would have would go unnoticed, being full of random stuff and coming and going regularly. They could have an RV, but they wouldn't be without housing if they could regularly afford the ferry fees. The thought that it could be a local turned my stomach. I'd hate to think one of our own was pulling this bullshit.

Thinking about other departments got me thinking about how Will ended up on a relatively small island in south Puget Sound. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how in the fuck he found his way out here just by traveling.

Our hospital was well-funded because some of the island families were stupid rich and donated a crap ton of money to keep it that way, but that didn't explain how Will had gotten here. Maybe he followed someone? A guy, I was guessing. He could be bi or pan, but I didn't think I'd ever seen him around town with anyone but a guy.

I was sure he had plenty of other options besides me. Will was fucking hot and kind and a goddamn great kisser. He had plenty of friends, judging by the barbecues I'd heard. Okay, maybe I'd seen him at dinner with friends down at Harbor Tavern a few times while on night shift.

Possibly, I'd popped in the side door for a quick bite because everyone needs to eat, right? I wasn't a stalker or anything, but I had noticed what his type might be if he was dating one of them.

They seemed way more polished than a small-town cop who couldn't string together ten words to anyone if he was out of uniform. Dinner was probably the worst idea. I was just going to embarrass myself, and Will was too damn polite to tell me I sounded fucking stupid.

As much as I spiraled in my fucking head all afternoon, I managed not to call and cancel dinner with Will. Getting home after my shift, I needed a shower to try and get myself out of my head. After putting my service gun in the closet lockbox, I shed my clothes before heading to the bathroom.

Thank God for tankless water heaters because there wasn't a wait for the hot water. I stepped into the shower and immediately grabbed my citrus body wash. I intended to get in and out quickly so I'd have time to make sure the house was reasonably clean before Will got here.

My good intentions didn't last long. Under the hot spray, I lathered the loofah with gel and started soaping my body. That was the exact moment I went off track. I knew I had a little bit of time before he came over. Just thinking about Will's calm voice and full lips that always seemed on the verge of smiling got my dick hard.

My grip on my cock tightened when I thought about him coming over. I could imagine him walking into the bathroom to see what was taking me so long.

He'd settle against the bathroom counter, watching me through the shower's glass doors, already fogged with steam. I'd know he appreciated the view when his chest rose and fell with his rapid breathing. If I looked at him, I'd see the outline of his thickening cock behind the zipper of his slacks. His expression would be feral, and I would be his prey. Will would fucking devour me, and I was serving myself up on a plate.

"Don't let me stop you, Beckett. I like to watch," he'd say. I'd reach down to my cock again and slide my hand slowly down the length. My breathing would be shallow as I fought to keep myself under control. My cock would be hard as stone and jutting obscenely from my body. I'd slip my hand down to cup my heavy balls. They'd already ache with my need to come.

He'd say, "Baby, I want to see you come for Daddy. Keep one hand on your dick and use the other on your nipples. Can you pinch them for Daddy? Can you make them hurt just a little for me?"

I would pinch and twist and pluck at my nipples. In my fantasy and the real world, they were hard and pointed. Even in my mind, I tried to keep the whimpers and moans in my throat, but they wanted to explode.

Since I'd lost my virginity in college, I'd been told my noises weren't toppy enough. Every cell in my body wanted Will to be the exception. I wanted to moan like a whore for him, and I wanted him to think I was a whore only for him.

Every stroke caused a jolt down my body, and every muscle tightened. In my mind, I could still see him leaning against the counter. He'd taken out his cock and was stroking himself as he watched me.

My rasping breath came out in uneven puffs. I wanted this man more than I knew how to put into words. My body quivered with the idea that Will, no, my Daddy, was watching a deliciously dirty private show for his eyes only. I'd gasp for breath and pant to prolong how damn good it felt. My moans came low, and my throat convulsed to keep them inside.

"Oh no, sweetheart. I want to hear you. I want to hear every sound. Don't you belong to Daddy? You're Daddy's little cum slut, aren't you? Every sound. Every moan. Every fucking time you come. It all belongs to Daddy."

Will would say the words in that damned calm voice of his, which went straight to my dick, and I'd know that he loved every minute. His smooth baritone was a caress that caused every nerve ending in my body to shiver. I wanted Daddy to watch me come because I wanted him to know that every part of me was his.

My hand was on my dick, steadily stroking from base to tip. My imagination continued down the rabbit hole of how it would all play out. I stroked faster as I panted Will's name like a prayer. Still lost in my fantasy, I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, and my hole tightened with the need to be touched.

My thoughts strayed into how he might order my hands off my dick to play with my hole instead. The idea was enough to start whimpers I couldn't contain.

He'd instruct me to turn around and brace myself with one arm on the shower wall. I'd tilt my ass out to show my Daddy how much his boy needed to be fucked. Will would order me to touch the rim of my pucker. He'd tell me to play with it and circle it and torture my hole for his entertainment.

Although I knew it was all a fantasy, my body reacted all the same. Precum leaked from my dick in a constant stream to be washed away by the hot water pounding over me.

I struggled to stave off the orgasm building inside because I wanted my obscene show to continue. It wasn't possible, but I desperately wanted to transport Daddy into this room with me so this moment could become real. His voice and instructions were so clear in my mind that I couldn't help but wonder if it was possible to conjure him.

My body reacted as if he were with me. My cock felt even harder, like warm steel covered in velvet. The spongy head of my cock leaked precum, and my hand raced up and down the stiff shaft. As I imagined Daddy watching me, my balls tightened against my body, and a familiar tingle began in earnest at the base of my spine. My fantasy was so clear that I almost didn't hear the doorbell.

Goddammit. Oh fuck. God-fucking-dammit.

Paralyzed in the shower, I still had one hand on my junk and the other braced on the shower wall. My thoughts fought through the fog, so it took a minute for my brain to catch up. When I could somewhat think again, it took every ounce of willpower I possessed to force my limbs to work together once more to get myself out of the shower, get dressed, and go over to the front door.

Wrapping a towel around my waist was physically painful when it brushed against my still-hard cock. I swore at myself for spending so much time imagining what a voyeur session with Will would be like instead of getting my shit done.

How fucking stupid could I be? I'd known he was coming over for dinner, and I spent time jacking off instead of cleaning up the mess in the living room and getting the kitchen ready. He would probably regret coming over anyway. Now that Will was going on his Daddy journey, he could have his choice of guys on that trip with him. He sure as fuck didn't need some dumbass who couldn't manage to take a shower without fucking things up.

A part of me knew I was just talking shit about myself, and he did want to be there, but the voice in my head kept a running tab of the stupid shit I'd done since I got home. The voice sounding suspiciously like my dad was a problem I didn't have time to deal with now.

Berating myself wasn't going to get me dressed any faster. My heart continued to pound as I tore across my bedroom to wrench open my dresser. Forcing my still-swollen, leaking cock into my underwear was physically painful, but I did it anyway. There was zero chance of this erection going away if I went out there free-balling.

I grabbed the first thing I saw in the drawer. It wasn't fancy, but a pair of lounge pants and an academy T-shirt would have to do. I jammed my legs into the pants and headed for the door.

Will knocked again just as I pulled the door open. His arms were full of groceries, and I stepped back to let him inside. He removed his jacket and hung it on the hook beside the door. He toed off his shoes to stand in his socks, jeans, and an unbuttoned maroon henley that made his blond hair stand out even more. Judging by the damp curls, he must have taken a shower too.

"Oh, hey, sorry! I was late getting home and jumped in the shower to wash my hair and stuff. I lost track of time." My words came out in a rush. I could feel a blush climb up my neck like I was a damn teenager caught jerking it in the bathroom.

The irony of being a grown-ass man essentially being caught jerking it in the bathroom was not lost on me. Will stepped closer and gently laid his hand against my wrist. His smile was soft, and his voice was calm as always.

"It's okay. I could hear the water through the open window, so I figured that's where you were."

His touch seared my skin, and I swayed into him. He stepped forward and tilted his head back to look up at me. Then he raised up on his toes to brush his lips against mine and quickly pulled back again. It was barely a kiss, but it felt like everything I'd ever wanted. My tongue darted out to capture whatever taste was left of him on my lips.

Will flashed me another smile and scooted past me. He paused at the doorway to the kitchen and turned around with a wicked grin. There was no mistaking the knowing look he gave my still half-chubbed boner. I had hoped like hell he wouldn't notice.

"I'm pretty sure you were doing more than washing your hair." With a wink, Will disappeared through the doorway.