Page 17 of Bullet

“Please! I need more.”

“Do you want my cock, baby?”

“Yes.”

“Say it. Tell me what you want.”

She licks her lips and whispers, “I want your cock inside me. I need to feel you.” She clenches her pussy around my fingers, and I lose what’s left of my control. I strip off my boxers, barely remember to slip on a condom, and sink into her precious cunt. The heat of her pussy is incredible. I root myself deep inside her and inhale deeply, willing my body to slow down. Amelia wraps her legs around my waist; her fingernails dig in my biceps.

“Fuck me, Aaron,” she murmurs in my ear.

I pull out slowly, then plunge back inside her. I do this over and over again, until I feel her pussy clench my cock. A shudder runs through her, and she cries out my name. I watch her come undone in my arms. Her orgasm rips through her, and I finally watch her float in her euphoric haze.

I continue to thrust mercilessly inside her sweet pussy, until, like a lightning bolt, I finally climax, my teeth finding the soft skin of Amelia’s shoulder, and I moan my release. Amelia’s heart beats wildly against my palm. I smooth her hair away from her face, lift my head, and drop my forehead on hers.

“Unbelievable, baby,” I tell her. Her cheeks go rosy, and I kiss her long and slow. “Never feel shy around me. You’ll always be safe in my arms.”

It takes me a while to break away, and only then to deal with the condom. I come back to find Amelia curled on one side of the bed. After the amazing sex we just had, I think it’s cute that she’s shy. I pull back the sheets and move in beside her, literally hauling her up and laying her on top of me.

“I like you here. Can you sleep like this?” I ask.

She rests her head on my chest, with her hand over my heart. “Yes,” she responds with a yawn. I’ve worn her out. I run my hand over her back in circles and wait for her breathing to even, until I know she’s fallen asleep.

Ten

Cops Want Answers

Amelia

I wake with a start; my body aches deliciously as I remember the passionate lovemaking session with Bullet last night. I glance over at the clock on the nightstand and squeal in shock. Bullet rushes out of my bathroom, wearing only a towel.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking around the room.

“I’m going to be late. I can’t be late. Not today of all days!” I have so much on my agenda for the day. I scurry out of bed while trying to untangle myself from the bedsheets, and nearly trip and fall flat on my keister to the floor. “I’ll never be ready on time.” I grip the sheet closer to my chest and rummage through my drawers to find a clean pair of panties and bra, then try to shuffle past Bullet to the bathroom.

I have fifteen minutes. A quick shower, I’ll put my hair up in a ballerina bun, and I might have time for mascara and lip gloss. I’m running to the bathroom when Bullet’s arm hauls me back to him.

“I’m going to be late,” I say frantically.

“Kiss me.”

“But—”

“Kiss me. We start our morning with a kiss. Whenever I’m with you, and I plan on being here a lot, this is how we start the day,” he says.

That’s so sweet. I could sit here and debate the importance of being on time at work, but it’s faster and much more fun to kiss my man good morning, so I do.

“I’ll get your travel mug ready, and I found some muffins in your freezer. I’ll pack you a couple,” he says, then lets me go.

I’d like to take the time to memorize this moment, but that’s not possible this morning.

I believe I’ve set a new record on getting ready for work. I’m rushing into the living room with one shoe on, while trying to get the other on my foot as I head for the front door. My hair is wet, but since I put it up in a bun, you can’t tell. Bullet comes over to help me on with my jacket, hands me my mug and a brown bag with muffins, then kisses me.

“Material is here. Crush is on his way. We’ll get started. I’ll make dinner tonight. Text me a time you’ll be home,” he says.

The school is buzzing with activity. Teachers are preparing to discuss the curriculum tomorrow night with parents and getting their classrooms ready. They put the students’ best work up on the boards and, along with their classes, are creating displays for their moms and dads to see.

By the end of the day, I’m working on setting up the chairs in the gymnasium for my formal welcome speech. I’m going to keep it short and sweet. No one likes to hear a principal drone on for hours. I’m on my last rows of chairs when Izzy comes over.