Page 106 of Strays
I inhale through my nose, already feeling it come together.
“This one,” Jay adds, pointing to a third photo. “That’s from the last sweep, that dealer caught in South End.”
This one’s more obvious. In the center of the photo there’s a small spread of baggies: coke, benzos, the usual. But right next to them, there’s an empty insulated delivery bag with a seafood restaurant logo.
Jay finally turns to us. “It’s temperature. Whatever this stuff is, they’re keeping it cold.”
We take the photos to Scouse, and she doesn’t waste time, ordering a full review of every report involving cold-chain materials, even if no drugs were recovered. The squad spends the afternoon combing through arrest logs, field notes, and overdose reports. We cross-reference locations, recheck scene photos, and start pulling threads we didn’t know were there: portable coolers left behind, unlogged insulated bags, melted gel packs.
By the time we’re cleared to leave the office, we’ve outlined the framework for a new strategy: a citywide operation targeting every facility that uses cold storage or refrigerated transport. Ice cream shops. Seafood restaurants. Meatmarkets. Trucks hauling frozen goods.
Before we head out, we circle back to Scouse’s office. I nod toward the last sweep photo still sitting on her desk.
“The logo on that bag,” I say. “We dig a little, and it’s from a restaurant on Gerusse Street. We want to check it before the operation. Off the record.”
She doesn’t even blink. “You’ve got Sunday.”
When we get home and tell Jo we’ll be working on our day off, she isn’t happy. Sunday’s the only day we really get time together now. Even with training ending earlier and us getting home before dark, the window’s tight. Between cooking, eating, showering, and getting into the nest early enough to get the sleep we need, there’s not much left.
We also don’t have time for the basketball hoop in the yard anymore. But on Saturday, after our training session, we make it downtown to the YMCA court. But now the game feels like everyone else is moving in slow motion. The three of us have to hold back just to keep it fun instead of a blowout. It’s not as exciting as it used to be, but it’s still good to catch up with Fontes.
Later back home, Shane and Jay pass out right after dinner. I can feel the sleep pulling at me too, heavy behind my eyes, but I miss Jo. It’s been days since we’ve had time together, so I fight to stay awake and wait for her.
She must miss me too, because the second she walks in and sees me still up, her scent shifts, spice rolling through the room like a storm. She holds out a hand. “Come. Let’s go downstairs so we don’t mess with Shane and Jay’s sleep.”
Both of my brothers have already been with her alone by now, but this is my first time. I’m nervous, excited and curious about what it will feel like.
By the time we hit the bottom of the stairs, I’m kissing her, a hum already rising in my chest, low and urgent. I unwrap the towel from her body and toss it aside. Her hands are on me too, tugging my shorts down until I can step out of them.
I lift her in my arms and carry her to the dining room, setting her on the edge of the table, kissing her lips, then trail down her neck, licking and sucking my bite mark.
She opens her legs, wrapping them around my hips. My hands slide between us, and I can feel she’s already dripping. I drop to my knees, needing to taste her. I kiss her sex like I’d kiss her mouth, her skin soft as lily petals against my tongue. The spice in her scent is so heavy my whole mouth prickles.
Her breath catches, and her hips shift. The moans start, each one hitting me like a jolt, my cock throbbing and leaking in response. She fists my hair and holds me in place as I circle her clit, slow and steady. I want to savor it, take my time, but she’s not in the mood to wait.
“Babe,” she gasps. “I need to come. Please make me come.”
I slowly slide one finger into her, then a second. When I curl them, her legs tremble, and I feel a gush of wetness flooding my hand. I move faster, fingersdeep, tongue working her clit. I feel her body tense, her fingers twisting in my hair, crushing my face to her as she breaks apart, crying out, hips jerking, and thighs clamping around my head.
I stand, line myself up, and push into her in one slow, deep stroke. Her walls clench around me, still fluttering from her orgasm.
The rut fog stirs in the distance, but I know it won’t take me. Not without Jay and Shane.
Without the urgency of the rut, I move slowly, aware of every inch of her, every sound. Her nails dig into my back, and her legs wrap tight around my waist as her teeth graze my neck.
It’s a feast for my senses: her spice scent heavy on the back of my throat, her ragged breath on my skin, the broken cries spilling from her lips, the tight, wet, hot walls squeezing my length, it all crashes into me, raw and relentless.
I grit my teeth, trying to hold back the orgasm already building.
“Fuck, Jo,” I breathe. “You feel so good. Too good.”
“More,” she pants. “Harder. I want all of you.”
I give in. My pace quickens, hips slamming into her again and again. She lies back on the table, legs spread wide, knees bent, feet braced at the edge. Her hands grip the sides of the table for leverage, arms trembling with every thrust. I brace one hand on her hip, the other working her clit in tight, fast circles, keeping rhythm with every movement.
I feel her body locking up again, her walls clamping down around me so tight it’s hard to move.
And then she comes again, loud and beautiful, and seconds later, I fall with her.
