All You Want Read online

  I still don’t know what they were covering up, but I well remember the time I went to throw out the trash at the station and saw George hand Weaver a brown paper bag and pat him on the shoulder. They looked around furtively, but I’d ducked back behind the dumpster in the nick of time, my heart pounding and my palms sweaty.

  “She’ll be wearing Todd’s pajamas when she comes. She’ll be wearing Todd’s pajamas when she comes …”

  I can’t bear this. Maybe I can rub the tension out of my dick before Tami comes out of the bathroom. It’ll be quick. I grab a towel from the kitchen and settle back on my rocking chair. Closing my eyes, I cover myself with my grandma’s ripple afghan and lean back, unzipping my fly.

  Sighing, I lick my lips and cup my balls with one hand while my other hand encircles my hard wood. I envision Tami’s plump, loving hand with the dimples on the wrists. Soft and fluffy, yet firm in grip. A shimmering of pleasure pulses from deep in my groin, and I let a moan rumble from my throat.

  The vision is so beautiful and alluring, swirling with the scent of perfumed soap and hot, wet woman. She’s in the tub, rubbing the paint from that hot, dewy skin, and I’m imagining her voluptuous body covering mine.

  I let the chair rock gently and restrain myself from stroking too hard. I want this to last, because I’ll never get another chance to have Tami wiggling in my bathtub, warm water sloshing and fingers busy—cleaning or maybe touching herself.

  I picture her pinching her pink nipples and tickling the fleshy button beneath the curls at the junction of those luscious thighs. A smile licks my lips, and I inhale her savory scent as I imagine it—salty, tasty, and oh, so slippery.

  The chair rocks, and my dick strains with rising tides of pleasure. It’s hard to hold my hand back from pumping like a fiend. But I’m disciplined, and I’m not going to undermine this epic dream.

  The afghan slips to the floor, but I’m in the throes of Tami, and I can’t let go to retrieve it. She’s not coming out of that bathtub for at least another hour, what with the amount of paint staining her golden hair, her creamy skin, her kissable lips, her dainty tongue that’s so delectable and flexible, strong and able to give a man a lashing he’ll never forget.

  My eyes snap open, and the goddess in all her glorious beauty kneels in front of the rocking chair, her back to the crackling fire.

  “Tami! What are you doing?” I cover my package as best as I can with my hands—which are big, but not big enough.

  “He’s coming out to greet me when I come,” she sings to the same tune. “Now, shut up, Sheriff, and let me …”

  She doesn’t finish, because as I watch with helpless amazement, she slides her hands up my thighs, sending chills of pleasure straight to my balls. My cock twitches and pulses, but I can’t let myself burst out of control.

  Her graceful hands fondle my balls and stroke my cock, fuller and thicker than I thought possible.

  “Mmmm, Sheriff.” She licks her luscious lips. “I want you to arrest me and beat me with your nightstick.”

  The fire is blazing hot, and my dick is hotter still. It’s plumping and about to explode, but I can’t take advantage of her, especially since she could accuse me of police brutality later on.

  “Stop, not so fast.” I groan, straining my pelvis off the chair, but unable to push her away.

  “Why Sheriff, I’m a fast driver, and you never ticket me for speeding, why stop now?”

  Nothing in me wants to stop, least of all my hard cock and pounding heart. Except if she keeps touching me, this will be over soon, and I might never get another chance to make all the love I want to make with her.

  Forcing myself against my will, I unlatch her hands from my zinging erection and lift her from her knees. I’m still seated in my grandmother’s rocking chair, still unsure if this is real or a dream when her pendulous boobs bounce against my face.

  Instinctively, my greedy hands palm the pillowy mounds, and my hungry lips latch onto her pink nipples, alternating between them. I suckle and lap, feasting on the tender sweet buns I’ve always dreamed of tasting.

  While I’m busy sucking and fondling, the naked goddess moans and pants with undisguised pleasure. She climbs over me, holding onto my shoulders, and her movement sets the rocking chair to a slow, swaying motion.

  Her gorgeous thighs spread open across my lap. “Let’s see how fast and quick drawing you are with that gargantuan pistol of yours.”

  “I, uh.” My voice is too strangled to finish any protest. I gape at her, helpless and enthralled as she lowers her hot wet slit, rubbing it deliciously across the length of my pistol, er, I mean, my cock.

  She keeps teasing me, not quite settling her slick holster on target. It’s tortuous, and I’m still on the verge of bursting. I can’t let our first time go up in an inglorious spurt of ignominy.

  For one excruciating second, I think I’m finished, killed, dead from unsated desire, and in the next, my goddess rears herself up and plunges all her hot, soaking wetness over my long, thick shaft—all the way to the hilt.

  “Ohhhh …” she moans so long and loud, or is it me?

  I’m almost afraid I impaled her to death. Fortunately, she’s alive enough to slather her lips over mine and kiss me to oblivion, blowing my brains while rocking and rolling on my lap.

  “Tami …” A groan strangles in my throat as her hot pussy clasps around me, a perfectly tight fit, but wet and slippery, sending jolts of passion through my body, rendering me entirely speechless.

  Lie back and enjoy this dream, I tell myself. Don’t fight it. It’s her gift to me, and it doesn’t mean we’re involved.

  I’m not really thinking of any consequences, not when her body’s bobbing up and down, and her flesh is surrounding my meat, twirling me up and down the pole of pleasure. My nerves are sizzling, shooting pleasure signals over my entire body, and I want this to last forever.

  My fingers tighten around her buttocks, and my hips swivel and jerk, out of my control.

  “I, I, uh, going to kuh-kuh-come.” I strain, sweating, trying to recite the police call codes. Everything slips my mind but the fact my dream goddess is riding my dick.

  Except I’m not sure what I want her to do. Stop?

  No way, but still, I can’t shoot into her—can I?

  “Baby, it’s ee-ee-enough. Can’t stop.”

  Sheesh, I sound douchey and pathetic at the same time, calling a woman “Baby” when she has my cock deep inside of her. I hope she won’t remember, and she doesn’t take this as a term of endearment—only desperation. A man should be excused in the throes of ecstasy.

  I’m trying to be a gentleman, but my balls have other ideas, priming themselves to spew, tightening with that zinging sensation and determined to father millions of babies—what the heck? I don’t have a condom on.

  I grip her hips and try to push, but Tami’s more determined. Her breasts slap against me, and her belly rubs up and down my chest. Her sheathe tightens around my pole, and I’m guessing she’s about to come. I can’t stop now, can’t pull out and I don’t want to—not when she’s pulsing in the throes of orgasm.

  The old rocking chair shudders and the floorboards creak like a chorus of squealing skunks living underneath. The huffing and panting steams the air with the balmy sexy scents of musk. She keens like a Greek chorus in the clouds, and her incessant clenching sends cataclysms from my tightening balls to the pulsing tip of my expanding cock.

  “Baby!” I’d rather not catalogue the embarrassing sounds gurgling from deep within my throat. At least I didn’t shout out undying love or propose. That would be even more disastrous than all my love pulsing and pumping and coming all over the gateway to her womb while I’m practically sobbing with pleasure and ready to surrender all my future “L” words to the altar of Tami of the Tremendous Orgasm.

  I’m a blubbering, sloppy mess, and I have to get myself together as she slowly rocks swelling billows of adoration over my sodden heart.

  Her half-lidded eyes lock on
to mine, letting me watch in full glory as she kisses me with both her upper and lower lips. She smiles like she’s won the lottery, when it’s my heart that she’s hooked, lined, and sunk.

  “Thank you, Sheriff Naughty-Ham,” she says. “For saving me.”

  The next thing I’ll admit to, I’m wiping myself clean. I hurriedly tuck my parts away, and zip up. Before anyone can discover me, I pull the afghan over my lap and lean back on the rocking chair. I hope no one heard the loud creaks in perfect rhythm with my hard, fast, and desperate strokes.

  In a state of sated contentment, I close my eyes, the better to bask in the afterglow and listen to the sweet voice singing from the bathtub. “She’ll have to sleep with Toddkins when she comes …”

  I yawn, snugging up the afghan and stretching back, and I wonder how she’ll come around the mountain when she comes.

  ~ Tami ~

  My skin is pink and wrinkled, and my vocal cords are raw and scratchy by the time I’m presentably clean. I’ve scrubbed and scraped, rubbed and rinsed pretty much every inch of my body and filled and refilled Todd’s clawfoot tub too many times to count.

  Poor dear. I wonder what he’s up to. Probably mad as heck that I commandeered his bathroom. But hey, he offered, and he’s right about one thing.

  My parents would have freaked to see me covered in a blood-colored substance. Dad would have blamed it all on Todd for not being there quicker, and Mom, bless her heart, would faint and declare the red-light district unsafe for me to run my business.

  Why can’t you stay in town and have a craft store or sell pretty things like quilts and tea towels? She always suggests that whenever she thinks my ideas are too grandiose.

  She’s content to run her family’s original homestead as a bed and breakfast, cooking in the morning and spending her days ironing and making beds. Even though she married into wealth, she still pinches her pennies and acts like a thrifty housewife. The only exception is me. She bought me everything I wanted, dressed me up in pretty clothes and went around serving me like she was my maid.

  Of course, I can’t go home all messed up and expect her to bend over the bathtub and clean me up.

  I finish draining the tub and step onto the bathmat. My ruined clothes are lying in a heap on top of a plastic garbage bag, and I realize I have nothing to wear.

  Wrapping a large plaid towel around me, I scout for my phone. It’s in my purse which is outside near the entry when Todd brought me into his place. I was so excited to see the inside of his cabin that I plumb forgot I have no clothes to wear.

  Maybe being naked is just the right thing for a time like this. I wipe my face dry and primp my wet dishrag hair as best I can. Todd doesn’t have a brush and hairdryer, and I don’t have my makeup.

  Oh well, au naturel it will have to be. I wonder how he’ll react when he sees me wandering out of his bathroom wearing nothing but his big ol’ fluffy towel.

  Should I do it?

  I frown at how big I look, especially with the bold checked pattern. The towel is jumbo-sized. What if he’s disgusted at the way my breasts overlap my belly? Or the dimples in my thighs?

  I suck in a deep breath and put my ear to the door. Maybe he’s gone, and I can sneak out, grab my purse, and call Linx to the rescue.

  Earlier, I heard him stomping around like a growly bear, restless and pacing. I strain to listen for footsteps, and there are none.

  Could he have gotten called out on police duty?

  Tucking the towel, I quietly open the door and tiptoe out of the bathroom. The cabin is warm, and I can smell a cozy fire going in the living room.

  “Todd?” I call out in case he’s in the kitchen, but there’s no answer. It looks like the coast is clear.

  I sneak by the living room, and that’s when I hear the steady rasp of a snore.

  He’s asleep through all my singing?

  I thought I’d annoy him and make him wonder what I’m up to, but he’s out cold.

  Emboldened, I stride over the solid oak floorboards and stop in back of the rocking chair.

  How cute.

  My big lumbering sheriff is snuggled underneath an old-fashioned ripple afghan. His face is relaxed in sweetness and peace, and I can picture him as a boy—almost. He’s way too rugged to be a boy, and his jaw is darkened by his beard shadow.

  “Oh, Toddkins,” I say, sighing. “Guess you would have been disgusted. Thanks for letting me clean up.”

  I blow a kiss over him and leave him in front of the fire to call my girlfriend.

  Linx comes over with the hoodie and sweatpants I leave at her place to go on dog walks with her.

  “My brother conked out?” she whispers, peeking into the living room.

  “Poor dear must be exhausted,” I say while pulling on my clothes. “He fired Molly for drinking on the job. My fault, and he said Shane is not answering his phone, so he’s on call all night.”

  Linx pats the picnic basket I left at her place. “Why don’t you stay and have dinner with him?”

  “I can’t.” I shrink back into the shadow of the hallway and pinch my fat. “He’s not interested in me. The entire time I was in the bathtub singing suggestive songs, all I did was put him to sleep.”

  “Then stay as a friend.” She plops the picnic basket, mostly filled with Todd’s favorites, on the kitchen table.

  “I can’t. I’ve intruded too much already.” I glance at my waistline spilling over my sweatpants. “Besides, my parents will be worried.”

  She pats me on the shoulder and accepts my explanation. That’s what I like about Linx. She doesn’t argue and keep pushing her views the way I do to her. She knows I’m self-conscious about the extra weight.

  “I’m sorry Todd isn’t interested,” she whispers. “No sense barking up a snoring tree.”

  “Nope, not at all,” I agree. Even if Todd and I had something going on, we were supposed to keep it secret because he doesn’t want to be a crooked cop. I guess he’s worried that he keeps letting me get away with speeding tickets.

  Just before leaving, I tiptoe into the living room and take a picture of my handsome sheriff sitting on a rocking chair in front of the fire.

  “Thanks for saving me, Todd.” Leaning over, I grace his cheek with a kiss and smile down at him, unable to keep from stroking the stray lock of hair hanging over his forehead.

  Linx’s expression is a mixture of sadness and sympathy. She knows how much I crushed on Todd, and it sure feels like I’m giving up a dream.

  Without another word or disturbing his ripsaw snoring, I pick up my purse and the bag of ruined clothes and follow Linx out.

  My heavy heart, as well as the rest of my heavy body, sags, and I feel like I’m leaving the home I should have had. I guess having me in his bathtub wasn’t the fantasy I thought it would be for him, and I’m sure he’ll be upset when his water bill is due.

  Fourteen

  ~ Todd ~

  “Where the hell were you?” I collar Shane the next morning when he ambles into the station. He’s clean-shaven, bright-eyed, and his hair is combed back without a strand out of place. “You were supposed to be on call.”

  “You sure, Sheriff?” He tips his chin insolently. “Molly told me you decided to take the evening shift. Heard there was trouble at Tami’s hotel.”

  “Molly was messing with you. I told you I fired her. Besides, you weren’t answering your cell.”

  “Had a hot date.” He smirks and heads to the breakroom to pour himself a mug of coffee.

  “Then you won’t mind doing all the paperwork this morning while I go out on patrol.” I brush by him. “Oh, and while you’re here, you’re answering the phones.”

  I pick up my hat and walk out without waiting for any smart remarks. I have a meeting with the town council on Spooky Fest security, and I have to give the Vice Squad basic training in crowd control.

  As for Tami’s permit, I feel guilty not approving it—especially after she left that picnic basket full of goodies last night. I called
her after I woke, asking why she left, and she made an excuse about having to pick up her mother from bridge night from her friend’s house.

  Her mother doesn’t drive, as far as I know, but our town is small, and she can get rides from everyone she knows. That’s the beauty of having roots here. No need for taxis and the new online ride-hailing services when a simple phone call or wave of a hand on the street corner will do.

  I’ll head over to the diner to pick up the Mountain Muse local newspaper. After that, I ought to drop by the real estate office to thank Tami and get a rain check for the picnic, but I’m wondering why she beat a hasty retreat last night. Had she come out of the bathroom and seen me in the throes of my dream? Was I whacking off in my sleep? It’s scary how real everything felt, but I have to pretend nothing happened—because nothing did, as far as she’s concerned. I sure hope she didn’t see anything embarrassing.

  My lips in a thin grim line, because I have to appear tough as the sheriff, I march across main street, striding fast by the real estate office. I’m not going to look her direction and give myself away. My only job is to keep the town princess safe, not get involved with her and end up compromised the way Sheriff Weaver was.

  I’m barely across main street when a brown sedan careens toward me, going way too fast. My first instinct is to hold out my hand in a stop position, but when the car speeds up, I dive over a hedge to avoid getting hit.

  The car plows over the curb. It bounces over the sidewalk and crashes into the base of my ancestor’s monument with a loud thud. The hood crunches, and the airbags inflate.

  I rush to the driver’s door and pull it open, then grunt in disgust at the open bottle of whiskey. My high school buddies, Al, Dillon, and Justin tumble out of the vehicle.