Unleashed

It was time to take control of the situation. But when Rick turned to face Jessie, he found her standing there unabashedly naked, her slim hands on those curvy hips, and his control slid through his veins in a snapping trail of sparks.

Double damn, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. And with every moment of their last encounter replaying in his mind like a forbidden sex video, he doubted he would get through this night without sinking into her body one more time. Maybe three. “You see, Sheriff, what you’ve been doing is torturing me with that sour mood all day. Now it seems as if I’m going to have to put up with it for another day or two.”

Tossing condoms onto the bed like a little pile of promises, she casually crossed the room and flicked on the light.

“Personally,” she went on, “the only time I happen to like you is when I’ve got my legs wrapped around your waist. So if I’ve got to deal with you all day, the least you can do is pleasure me at night…”

Dear Reader

What is it about a wounded hero that makes us love him so much? Maybe it’s the nurturer in us that makes us yearn to fix what’s broken. Or maybe we simply love a challenge. Whatever the reason, there’s something inherently intriguing about a man in need of emotional rescue and that one special woman who brings him hope.

When Rick Marshall sets his sights on Jessica Beane, he feels he’s not capable of giving more than a one-night stand. But when circumstances push them together for an extended weekend, she manages to show him he’s got plenty of living still to do.

I hope you have as much fun reading the story as I did writing it. Please drop me a note and tell me what you think of it. You can contact me through my website at www.LoriBorrill.com.

Happy reading!

Lori Borrill

An Oregon native, Lori Borrill moved to the Bay Area of San Francisco just out of high school and has been a transplanted Californian ever since. Her weekdays are spent at the insurance company where’s she’s been employed for over twenty years, and she credits her writing career to the unending help and support she receives from her husband and real-life hero. When not sitting in front of a computer, she can usually be found at the Little League baseball fields playing proud parent to their son. She’d love to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.LoriBorrill.com.

For Al and Tommy

Chapter One

“So, SHERIFF, shall I spread ’em?”

Rick Marshall grasped the hips of the fiery redhead who had splayed her hands against the bedroom wall of his San Francisco flat.

“I’m thinking you should probably frisk me,” she added, tossing a sinful wink over her shoulder and wiggling her bottom against his waist. “I could have something dangerous under my skirt.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips close to the silky curls at her nape and whispered, “I’m counting on it.”

She chuckled and he caught a whiff of something sweet. Peaches or strawberries. Or maybe it was the cherry she’d been sucking on back at the bar. The one she’d teased him with from across the room, trailing her tongue around the slick, red orb while sending him a look that said she’d prefer it if the cherry were his cock.

Rick normally wasn’t such an easy mark, but between a crap day on the force and a couple condoms growing dust in his wallet, he decided not to play his usual game of not-interested. He’d found a spicy little Texan with her heart set on partying. Tonight was a night to do something he hadn’t done in a long, long time.

Have some fun.

She brushed her ass against his crotch and his jeans strained against a cock that wanted to take this way too fast.

“Easy, Jess,” he whispered into her ear. “This dick you’re teasing hasn’t seen much action lately.” He slid his hands down her hips and held her steady. “I’d hate for this night to end before it gets started.”

She spun around and pressed her back to the wall, the toying look in her eyes darkening to something serious while her hands went to work on his belt. “Right. I’m supposed to believe a tall, handsome man in uniform doesn’t get any action?” She curved her mouth just short of a smile. “Don’t let the drawl mistake me for stupid.”

Oh, Jessica Beane most definitely wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t have brought her home if she was. Despite the turned-up freckled nose and occasional girlish grin, the woman at work on his pants had eyes of experience, though what kind he wasn’t sure. He only knew she wasn’t naive or foolish, and for tonight, that’s all he needed.

“Believe whatever turns you on,” he said before covering her mouth with his.

Cupping her cheek with his hand, he dug in and feasted on the petite little beauty. She tasted like honey, felt like pure heaven and the surge to his pulse told him he needed this encounter more than he’d realized. Too much lately, he’d wrapped himself up in the job, every waking moment, every rampant thought devoted to getting creeps off the street. Since Nat’s death, catching bad guys had gone from a job to an obsession he couldn’t overcome, even though he knew that for every punk he brought in a dozen more were lined up after. It was a never-ending battle—he knew that—but it didn’t stop the gnawing in his gut that kept him going. Working homicide, he’d seen too many of those blank stares, the eyes of the dead, silently begging him to catch one more.

And you caught them all too late, didn’t you, pal?

He sucked in a heavy breath, inhaling the spicy fragrance of Jessie’s hair, breathing deeply to extinguish the haunting voice. Sliding his hands toward her breasts, he needed to touch and absorb something living, something soft, vital and whole. He needed this escape, this heated rush of blood through his veins to remind himself that he was still among the living, that there was still pleasure to be found in this sometimes dark world. And before this night was over, he intended to find lots of it. He hadn’t walked into Scotty’s looking for sex, but he’d found it in this red-hot cowgirl. And as she won the battle with his belt and went to work on his fly, he thanked Jessica Beane and her sinful cherries. A one-night stand was exactly what the doctor ordered.

With increased fury, she unfastened the buttons on his 501’s while their mouths licked and sucked.

Wondering why the rush, he came up for breath. “You in a hurry to get somewhere?”

“Yeah. In your pants.”

He kissed a path to her ear. “I mean after that.” Grasping her left hand, he jiggled her ring finger. “You don’t need to get home to someone, do you?”

He could sense the roll of her eyes in her voice. “No ring. No husband.” Then she huffed and added, “No boyfriend, no partner, no significant other. Not even a crush on a movie star.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I’d like to keep you for a while.” Tasting the base of her neck, he slipped a hand up under her black, sleeveless T-shirt and grabbed hold of a breast covered in something silky. A hard nipple topped the mound, and when he brushed his thumb over the smooth nub, her soft moan vibrated against his lips.

“This is nice,” he said, sliding his spare hand up her shirt to toy with the other mound. He circled his palms over her nipples where they tickled his skin and sent sparks through his veins.

Her hands tugged at his jeans, the brush of her fingers against his length hardening an already threatening erection. He’d gone too long without the taste of a woman, erroneously thinking that a quick jerk-off in the shower could replace this feeling of flesh against flesh. Her mere touch was enough to send him careening toward the edge. So when she released his goods and took his hard, naked shaft in her hand, he quickly grabbed her forearms and pulled away.

“Babe, I wasn’t joking. You’re playing with a man overdue.” Guiding her hands around his waist instead, he trailed his tongue against her earlobe. “I’d like this evening to last a while.”

She responded by sliding to her knees. “Then we should take the edge off.”

Every nerve in his body went on alert when those soft, wet lips touched his cock and cloaked him in slick warmth. The blood in his brain rushed south, stiffening his shaft until it throbbed.

“Babe, don’t,” he attempted, trying to pull from her mouth, when she relented, grabbing his ass and running her smooth tongue all the way from tip to base.

“Relax and go with it,” she urged, but the anxious beauty didn’t know what she was dealing with. She probably thought she’d come home with a regular guy. Someone who had real, live sex on a regular basis and who could shoot his wad and bounce back sometime before dawn for a few more rounds.

And on another day he would have been that man.

But he’d had too many sleepless nights, and the sensations boiling through him had been too long coming. He was overheating, the climax threatening to hit with such force he’d be spent for sure.

He may have lost most everything in his life, but he still had his pride.

She grabbed his balls and licked, and now he really did try to pull away. Until she opened wide and took him in fully.

Weeks of stress and tension slipped from his neck and shoulders, spilling down his back and sliding over his legs until his knees went weak and he had to brace himself against the wall. He cursed. Her wicked, hardheaded intent that had intrigued him in the bar was about to do him in right here. And as she clasped his hips and began motioning him to thrust his cock inside her, he lost the will to fight.

For the moment he simply obeyed, her moans of pleasure filling his ears and draining his mind of everything but the slick, tight feel of her tongue caressing his shaft. And as he let his body take over, pumping in and out while her fingers toyed with his ass, her groans played like music in the quiet of his room.

Electricity rushed through him, curling his fingers against the smooth, plastered wall, sounding a hum in his chest that erupted in one last warning.

“Jessica, I mean it. This is—” But a sharp stab of sensation sped up from his cock, trapping the words in his throat.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured before taking him in deep, apparently recognizing the signals that he was about to burst.

The waves kept sweeping through him, each one heavier than the last, and quickly his consciousness drained of everything but the feel of that mouth sucking hard on his flesh. His body lurched, his sight fading to black, his ears numbing to silence as the swirling cyclone of sensation began at the base of his spine and moved slowly toward the apex.

He leaned closer, his elbows scraping against the wall as he widened his stance in an attempt to brace himself for the crash, but before he could get a grip, she pressed a finger to the sensitive spot behind his balls and everything in him exploded.

“Oh, sh—” he cried out, bucking and jerking against her. His cock began to slip from her lips and she latched on, holding him in, dragging that tongue across his length and spreading white heat through every cell in his body.

He came hard, then came again, the waves ripping through him in a constant barrage of swell and release. For what seemed like an eternity he simply gave in to the motion, his flesh and her will taking over, holding him captive and sending him to places unknown. He didn’t know how long it went on before the light slowly returned and her sweet sound of satisfaction filled his ears.

She was still on her knees, her tongue still caressing his shaft when he’d finally regained the motor skills to push from the wall and stand erect.

And then mortification swept through him. He hadn’t had the woman in his bedroom for more than ten minutes before he’d humped her like a dog in heat and came in her mouth. What the hell was wrong with him?

Taking quick hold of her arms, he helped her to her feet, those sexy brown eyes expressing nothing but hot, ripe desire. Still, he opened his mouth to utter a lame apology, not knowing what to say or where to start. But before he could try, she whipped her black T-shirt over her head exposing two beautiful, round breasts covered in green silk and lace.

He stood dumbfounded as she wiggled out of her skirt, leaving her clad only in a matching thong and two sharp black stilettos.

A circle of moisture darkened the spot between her legs, underscoring her remark, “That was ridiculously hot.”

It was an understatement.

She stepped from the pooled skirt at her feet and moved toward him, slow and deliberate, stopping for a moment to slide a finger between her legs then touch it to her lips. “Yes,” she said. “That definitely got me going.”

He swallowed.

When she reached him, she trailed the wet finger over his mouth as she stood close and eyed his lips intently. “Want a taste?”

Now her sweet honey scent was laced with sweat and sex, and as she rubbed her body against his, all the spots he’d feared might sleep for the night woke up for another round.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, sucking the slick tip of her finger into his mouth. Though she was a virtual stranger, she managed to know his body better than he knew it himself.

Or did she simply know her own capabilities?

Either way, she’d read him perfectly. He had needed to take the edge off, because now his pulse strummed with a tempered warmth that allowed him to relax and enjoy the seduction.

Straddling one leg, she pressed her sex to his thigh and began rocking against him, moving her hips in a dance, a slick spot growing where her clit met the fabric of his jeans. She moistened her lips and watched as he flicked his tongue against her finger, gliding it back and forth over the tip, demonstrating exactly what he planned to do to more sensitive spots on her body.

“That’s it,” she said. “That’s exactly how I want it.”

And the cock he’d thought was spent hardened as if they’d just gotten started.

He whipped her into his arms and tossed her on the bed, still awash in wonder over how this woman managed to tip him so far so quickly. Before tonight, he’d feared himself too old, tired and ruined for sex like this. But as he pulled the thong down her waist and began feasting, the years and sleepless nights slipped away, leaving him as pumped and virile as he’d been back before his life had fallen apart.

She crooked the heel of her shoe against one shoulder then did the same with the other, leaving her wide and exposed to receive all the gracious pleasure she’d given moments ago. And as he dove in, he thanked Fate for bringing him this momentary respite.

Not a drinker, he rarely went into the bars, much less picked up a playmate for the evening. They were usually more trouble than they were worth, expecting more than he could give.

Which was pretty much nothing.

But something seemed to be propelling him tonight. Like the tide carries a bottle from one shore to another, ever since he left the station he seemed to be succumbing to a force stronger than his will. And as he began the slow climb toward another searing climax, he opted to go with it rather than question it, for once relishing this life that had somehow gone out of his control.

“So WHAT WAS IT you were celebrating again?” Rick asked under the soft glow of the lone lamp that rested on his bedside table. Jessie had snuggled against him, her dimpled chin digging into his chest, sheets draped haphazardly around her waist while she trailed a finger over his abs.

Her eyes lit with a smile and she bolted from the bed. Excitement bounced in her steps as she shot out a quick, “I’ll show you,” before disappearing into the front room.

Where she got the energy, he’d never know. Though he’d discovered far more stamina than he believed he had, three hours of sex had officially drained every muscle in his body. The way he felt right now, brushing lint from his arm would be a stretch. Yet there was Jessica Beane, her perpetual beat leaving him wondering if she had a point of exhaustion.

Settling back next to him, she propped against a pillow and held up a worn and wrinkled copy of People magazine. Pointing to a celebrity photograph, she proudly exclaimed, “That.”

He squinted to find the significance under the dim light.

“Jewel Murray?” he asked, vaguely remembering the name of the blond starlet pictured strolling across a street.

“No, that,” Jessie replied, moving her slim finger to the handbag the actress was carrying. It was bright pink, adorned with shiny black sequins and—were those green feathers?

Jessie beamed, “It’s a Beane Bag. This photo just made me famous.”

A sliver of their bar conversation came back to him, something about the fact that she made designer handbags for a living—or was trying to. She was part of a co-op of struggling artists who owned a boutique on the edge of Union Square.

“Would you believe I was down to my last three hundred dollars when this photo appeared in People?” she went on. “I was actually canvassing the neighborhood looking for another job. That’s how I found Scotty’s. They’d posted an ad for a waitress and I liked the fact that it’s a hangout for cops.” She eyed him with all innocence. “Safer, you know?”

He nearly laughed out loud. Sure, cops typically upheld the law, but put a few together with a couple of cocktails after an especially tough day and any woman intent on keeping her pants on could hardly consider herself safe.

He decided not to burst her bubble.

“I’d just accepted a part-time shift at IHOP when this photo hit the stands,” she said. “It took twenty-four hours before stores all over the country were calling me for inventory. I even got a call from Paris. Paris, can you believe it?”

No, but her excitement was contagious. Those caramel eyes had a way of sucking him in, beaming so brightly with delight he couldn’t help but feel a little thrill for her.

She hopped up to her knees and clutched the magazine to her chest like it was her most prized possession. “I was able to get a loan from the bank. Just enough to cover supplies on order and hire myself an assistant.” Her grin widened. “I’m still in a daze. One minute, I’m going to be a waitress at IHOP and the next I’m hiring assistants to help me make purses I’ll be shipping to Paris.”

With a bounce to every move, she tucked the magazine into her purse and slid back into bed. “So, yeah, I’m celebrating.” She swung a leg over his waist and straddled his lap. Her girlish innocence darkened to pure woman as she traced a finger over his lips, eyeing them as if she were imagining what he might do with them. “And you’re the lucky guy who gets to celebrate with me.”

Unbelievably a wave of heat hardened his cock. Moments ago, with her curled up beside him and every part of his body tucked in for the night, he’d doubted a typhoon could have gotten him to stir. Yet all it had taken was a wiggle of Jessie’s round, little bottom, the crush of her breasts against his chest and that sneaky look of sex in her copper-kettle eyes to get his body buzzing all over again.

Just when he thought he’d broken the record on marathon sex, he found the will to sink into her one more time, to drive his tired, sated body to one last brink and beyond.

And that’s exactly what he did. One more taste of that sweet, supple body. One more sweep of life through his veins. One more climb to the tip of ecstasy and one last crash into the abyss.

And when they were done, he slipped into the longest, deepest sleep he’d enjoyed in as many years as he could remember.

Chapter Two

THE RING of her phone stirred Jessie from what had been a light and restless sleep. Not that she was troubled. On the contrary, she felt like a kid on Christmas Eve, excitement and anticipation keeping her too pumped up for anything more than a turbulent doze.

Granna Hawley had been right. Get out of Texas and all the bad luck that had plagued her life would come to an end. And if Jessie had doubted her paternal grandmother before, these last few days proved the woman had been right. Life had definitely been on the upswing since she’d stepped off the plane in San Francisco, the latest in her run of good fortune being an incredible night of sex with the gorgeous cop beside her.

Rolling off the bed, she grabbed her purse and his charcoal-gray T-shirt and headed for the front room, wanting to close the door behind her before the phone woke him. Although, looking over the broad mound, she doubted a hurricane would pull the man from sleep. Every inch of him was crushed against the big bed, those sharp, chiseled features sunk so deeply into his pillow she had to do a double take to see if he was actually breathing. Only when her phone sounded again, prompting the slight twitch of his right index finger, did she turn and step out of the room, satisfied her handsome lover hadn’t slipped into a sex-induced coma.

The thought made her smile, and as she flipped open the phone, the memory of the last few hours brought a layer of steam to her voice.

“Hello?”

“So you are alive.”

It was her friend and roommate, Georgia. “Of course, I’m alive, though when my strong and studly sheriff wakes up from his nap, I might be indisposed.”

Georgia didn’t sound impressed. “You forgot the rule.”

“What rule?”

“I’m serious, Jessie, if you can’t remember the rules, I’m not letting you go home with strangers.”

The giddy smile wilted from Jessie’s face as she recalled the drilling she’d received from Georgia earlier that evening, before the two women stepped out for the bars. “I was supposed to call.”

“Ding-ding-ding-ding! We have a winner.”

Still clutching Rick’s T-shirt in her hand, she pressed it to her forehead and lowered to his couch. “I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice muffled through fabric that smelled deliciously like musk and man.

“I’ll give you a break this time because it’s your first pickup date, but I’m serious. If you want to play the cosmopolitan woman, you’ve got to think like one, and that includes remembering that you’re not in Tulouse, Texas, anymore.”

And wasn’t Jessie thankful for that? Not that she had a problem with cowboys. She’d heard plenty of favorable stories about the rugged men on the range. It was just that the men in Tulouse were more boy than cowboy, and especially after this evening, she’d take the dangers of the big city over what she’d found back home.

“Tell me where you are so I can forget my miserable evening and go to bed.”

“What happened to the blond, beautiful beat cop you were hanging on to when Rick and I left?”

“Beat cop was right. He beat me to the orgasm then took off before I could even work up a decent flush.” Jessie heard the crunch of a taco chip through the phone—a sure sign Georgia wasn’t exaggerating about her miserable evening. She always drowned a bad day in a bag of Doritos. “Tell me your night went better than mine.”

Jessie smiled as she recalled the events of the evening, starting with the stormy look of intent in Rick’s sizzling blue eyes and ending with her desperate cries of release as she’d dug her fingers through his thick, dark hair and climaxed one last time. Still she tempered her excitement for the sake of her friend. “Marathon Man,” she said. “If I wasn’t so excited about my meetings tomorrow, I’d be dead to the world like he is.”