Page 27 of Sugar Free (Sugar Bowl 3)

But I push it far away from me.

"No," I growl into her ear, and because she's no match for my strength, I pull my finger out and sink it back in deep. Her insides flood with wetness even though she pulls at my arm to try to get me away.

"Beck," she says pleadingly. "Let me go."

"I am never letting you go," I tell her, my voice harsh and husky with anger that she'd even think about doing this. "If I have to tie you to that bed and fuck sense into you, I'll do it."

I plunge my finger in and out of her a few more times, add another, and feel a measure of triumph when her grip loosens on my wrist and her hips rotate seeking more contact.

"This doesn't change anything," she seethes, and even though she's practically fucking my fingers right now, I'm surprised by the venom in her voice.

"We'll see about that," I retort, pulling my hand free and rejoicing at her mewling sound of loss. But then she's gasping as I spin her around, lift her up, and deposit her on top of the sturdy built-in dresser. My fingers go into her panties at her hips and I rip them down her legs, which are dangling over the edge. With my palm to her sweater-covered chest, I push on her hard until she falls back against the wall, and then I'm spreading her legs open.

Bending over, I put my mouth between her legs and I eat my fucking pussy like a man on a mission. Sela's hands fly to my head, grip it tight, and she pushes my face against her harder. She knows it's my pussy, but she's also reminding me that my lips and tongue are hers.

I hit it hard, letting one hand drop to my belt, where I manage to work it free of the buckle through the magic of multitasking. Sela moans and begs me, and when I sense her getting close, I let my tongue fly against her clit.

"Beck," she gasps, and I have to stop myself from smiling at how easy it was to get her turned around from this ludicrous idea of leaving.

I tongue her harder.

"Beck," she moans again. "Make me come and then fuck me."

I pull back briefly and mutter against her wet lips, "I will."

"Good," she says, pressing me down harder against her. "Because after...I'm going to the cops and you can't stop me."

Son of a fucking bitch.

I rear back from her, leaving her hanging high and dry on that massive orgasm that I know was moments away. I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth, and even though her face is flushed with pleasure and I know she'd drop to her knees and beg me to finish her off right now, I also see the fire of resolve in her eyes.

"Yeah, that won't fucking do," I snap at her, enraged she's still even thinking that, but also hard and horny as hell, and more determined than she ever will be.

I use both hands to quickly unbutton my slacks and push them down my hips along with my underwear. I take my aching cock in one hand and snake my other arm around her back, pulling her to the edge of the dresser. Her hands come to my shoulders and she spreads her legs wide for me, all indications that she wants to be fucked. And yet she looks me square in the eye and I know this argument isn't over by a long shot.

The dresser is the perfect height, and with another pull on her body, I have her ass hanging halfway off but her pussy now pressed against my dick. I groan because just that tiny, wet, hot touch has me about crazy with lust for her. I bring both hands to the back of her hips and hold her steady as I slam deep into her, both of our eyes locked on each other in challenge-fueled passion. Her gaze burns bright with rebellion, and I'll be damned if I want to listen to her further arguments while I'm fucking her.

I put a hand to her jaw, press lightly at the joints, and tell her, "Open that pretty mouth so I can kiss it."

She gives me a gamine smile and does as I ask. I lean in slightly, tilting my head, but then my other hand snags the panties I had pulled off her moments ago and I shove them in.

Her eyes flare with surprise and heat before they narrow into a glare. I grin at her and kiss the corner of her mouth. "There...now I can fuck you without hearing your ridiculous words."

This pisses her off and she shoves at my chest, trying to push me away from her. I merely get hold of her hips again and pump in and out of her a few times. I'm fascinated as I watch the struggle on her face not to show me how good that feels and to keep that malcontent look leveled at me. Her fingers come to my shoulders and she digs her nails down into me, not sure if that's a sign of lust that she's so turned on or a form of punishment, but fuck...it hurts.

So I pull her off the dresser, expecting her to wrap those legs around my hips for leverage, but she starts to scramble off my cock and that just won't do. No way I'm not fucking this pussy now that I'm sunk in deep.

I spin forty-five degrees and push her right into the line of suits I have hung up on a bar that sits high enough that her head clears it easily. I push her into them hard, some of them falling from hangers, and some hangers falling from the bar to rain down around us. I push her all the way back with my suit coats at her back until she's pinned against that side of the closet, and I ram into her hard, holding her in place and grinding against her. She moans, her eyes fluttering in the back of her head, and finally...those beautiful legs come around my waist to hang on.

And she needs to hang on.

I let my anger and frustration and anxiety out on her body. I let my fear and love and uncertainty drive the force of my thrusts into her, letting that delicious wet heat cradle me and soothe me. I fuck my misery out on her, burying my face into her shoulder and closing my eyes. I hear her panting against the lace in her mouth and her moans every time I drive deep.

This right here...never giving this up, and I'm not going to let Sela destroy this.

Pulling my head up, I find her staring at me, her eyes now completely soft, her spirit completely in the moment with me. I reach a hand up, pull the panties out, and place my lips against hers, all while I push in and out with the force of a battering ram. Little bursts of air pump from her mouth into mine every time I slam in, and her arms wrap around me tight as we kiss.

Never fucking giving this up.

It's a quarter till five in the morning when I walk into the Sausalito Police Department. I left Beck sleeping soundly, utterly exhausted. I left him sleeping with the delusion that I'd be by his side when he woke up.

The only way I was going to be assured of slipping out of the condo was if I could get him into a deep and restful sleep. So after he fucked me in the closet, I urged him to take me to our bed where we kissed, and cuddled, and whispered sweet nothings. I let him make love to me, our eyes locked as we just rocked against each other. I let him extract promises that were nothing but lies while he tenderly fucked me.

"Promise me, Sela...you'll give up this idea of turning yourself in."

"I promise."

"Swear it for me."

"I swear it."

"Swear it on your love for me."

"I swear it on my love for you."

We came together and it was so beautiful I almost started crying. Then Beck pulled me into his arms, satisfied that I was put back in my place for the time being, and we fell asleep.

Well, he fell asleep.

I feigned it.

I didn't move a muscle and let him hold me for a few hours, memorizing the feel of his skin, his hair, the pace of his breathing...his scent. I inhaled against him deeply, committing it to my deep memory so I'd never lose it.

He never stirred once when I slipped out of bed and quietly put my clothes on.

By the fact he hasn't called me on my phone means he's still in our bed sleeping...probably with a contented smile on his face.

Chest pain...squeeze of regret.

I turn my phone off, so I won't be tempted to answer it when he calls.

A uniformed cop sits at the curved reception desk and looks at me curiously when I walk in. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I need to talk to Detective Denning or DeLatemer...either one."

"Well, neither one of them are in yet," he says with a smile. "They usually roll in around seven. You could come back...there's a twenty-four hour McDonald's about a mile away; you could go get some coffee or something."

"I need you to call them," I say firmly. "Tell them that Sela Halstead is here."

He has no clue who I am and there's no doubt it's crazy that I've walked in here during the dark morning hours demanding he call in a detective.

A flash of irritation across his face. "Miss Halstead...I can't--"

"Call one of them and tell them I'm here to confess to the murder of Jonathon Townsend," I say softly and with such honesty he immediately turns to the computer in front of him.

He types a few things on the keyboard as he says, "Just a minute...let me look up their cell numbers."

The cop finds them fast as he picks up the desk phone, and with his eyes pinned to me in disbelief the entire time, he calls Detective Denning. "Um...I've got a Sela Halstead at reception asking for you to come to the station. She said she wants to confess to the Jonathon Townsend murder."

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