Authors: Allyson Young
“Greg, Dr. Massey called the police, but they’re taking a long time and I thought…”
“Where are you?” Greg didn’t waste time on unnecessary questions. His woman was scared and had called him, and he was on it.
“I’m at Dr. Massey’s office. It’s on…”
“I know where it is. On the way.” Greg was moving to the till as he spoke, Max following without question. They both threw money on the counter and the proprietor waved them away, probably well used to impromptu exits. Max had the unmarked cranked over and moving almost before Greg had his door closed. He dictated the address to Max and checked the radio for chatter, but heard nothing that would alert him to any units at that address already, all the while telling Lacey he was on his way and gathering information from her.
Max grabbed the mic and advised dispatch of their off-duty status and their destination. It appeared they would be first on the scene, and Greg cursed at the paucity of responding officers. It was a domestic, and they were the worst, and Lacey was in the middle of one. She filled him in as the miles flew by, and then they were there. Max skidded to a stop in front of the building, leaving the unmarked as it drifted, nose in to the curb. Lacey had told him the husband was still contained in the foyer, and she didn’t think he was armed with a gun, because he hadn’t done anything to get in other than batter at the door with his fists and probably his feet, although she wasn’t certain about whether or not he had a knife or any other weapon. Greg’s gut clenched at the thought, but he then was out of the car and had his piece out of the holster and held by his side, close to his thigh, as he and Max moved as a team to enter the building. He told Lacey he couldn’t talk further until things were settled, but that he and Max were on the scene.
“Be careful, Greg. I couldn’t bear it if I called you here and you got hurt. Max, either.”
She sounded reasonably calm, but he could hear the residual fear in her tone and how it reflected in the timbre of her voice.
“We’ll be fine, honey. Just sit tight.” It had nearly killed him to put the phone in his pocket and lose contact with her.
As they cautiously entered the building, Max touched his arm and nodded to a large, bulky form sitting up against a door near the far end of the hall. They carefully approached, and Greg hoped they wouldn’t have to shoot the man, because he didn’t respond to their demands that he cease and desist and show his hands. Aside from the repetitive banging of his head against the wooden panels of the door, however, he made no other movements. He didn’t even seem to notice them. The sudden entry behind them of a patrolman wielding a flashlight in one hand and his pistol in the other distracted Greg for a split second, but the man on the floor didn’t change his actions. Max quickly identified them as fellow officers, and they all made their way further up the hall. The individual remained slumped on the floor, and Greg could see the tears streaking his otherwise blank face. It was the visage of someone who was so grief stricken that he had passed into a different state of mind on another planet. Greg had seen it a time or two in his own mirror.
Greg asked the patrol cop to radio for an ambulance, and then he and Max pulled the listless bulk up to lean him against the wall and search for weapons. Finding none, they walked him outside and sat him on the front steps as his legs went out from under him. It had been like walking a large, unwieldy doll with rubber limbs and no will. After ensuring that the patrol cops had things under control, Greg headed in to find Lacey, calling ahead to ask her to open the door and then stand well back.
As soon as he heard the lock disengage, he shoved through a jumble of tables and chairs that had been piled against the door as an additional barrier against the man in the hall. It took him a couple of tries, but he made it, and he felt a knot in his gut at how the fellow in the hall could have gotten through with equal ease had he been able to burst the lock. Several women sat on the floor at the opposite end of the room, and one was weeping soundlessly in the arms of an older woman who reeked of calm authority. He didn’t miss the heavy bookend by her hand. She looked up and nodded to him, but then his gaze slipped past her to Lacey who was walking toward him, first like an automaton and then with increasing confidence. She hurled herself into his arms and he gathered her up, holding her close and breathing in the scent of her. She relaxed into him, and his heart swelled and overflowed with relief and love.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
“Are you okay? Both of you?” Her voice was high and quavering.
“We’re fine. He was burned out by the time we got here, in pretty bad shape emotionally. They’ll take him to hospital and assess him. Do you know him?”
“There’s no need to bandy names about, Officer.” The older woman had disengaged herself from comforting the one who was so clearly upset and approached them.
“Meredith Massey. I’m the therapist who owns this building and runs the group. I’ll give you a statement, as will Elizabeth, and save Lacey from breaching confidentiality. Perhaps the other women can be escorted out to their cars. They really have nothing to add.”
Greg saw that everyone wore name tags with only their first names written on them. Dr. Massey was waiting patiently for him to assess the situation. He nodded to her and agreed that everyone could leave except for her and Elizabeth, who obviously was connected in some manner to the man in the hall.
“I’m taking Lacey home,” he said. She stirred as if to protest but desisted when he looked at her. Dr. Massey seemed to hide a smile, and Greg wondered at that, but only momentarily. He had been terrified that something was going to happen to Lacey before he got to her, and he was going to take her home and do something to assuage the adrenaline crash.
“Max will take your statements.”
Max stepped forward, and Dr. Massey transferred her gaze to him. Greg could have sworn that he actually saw something tangible pass between the two and dismissed the thought as being fanciful. He nodded to Max. “Thanks, buddy. We’ll take Lacey’s car, and I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. You did drive here, honey?”
Lacey’s voice was quiet, but she told him her car was parked farther down the street. Greg transferred her to his side, keeping one arm wrapped around her, and they made their way out of the building. It was a bit awkward getting through the door, in fact they had to do a little sideways shuffle, but he was simply not letting her go.
* * * *
Lacey sat silently in the passenger seat where Greg had placed her and then latched her seat belt for her. He had taken his hands off her only long enough to go around and get into the driver’s seat, adjust it to accommodate his long legs, and start the car. He drove with one hand, keeping in contact with the other, now stroking her arm, then pressing her upper leg. She felt totally safe and had no inclination to speak. They were simply enveloped in one another’s presence, and there was no need for words. She could feel her arousal build and felt almost languorous, although that was probably part of the letdown after the adrenaline rush. She had worried that Elizabeth’s husband would break through the door, and the wait after the call to nine-one- one had been interminable, although once she had spoken to Greg, the worry had essentially subsided. He had said he was coming, and she trusted that he would. But then, when she knew he and Max had arrived, she was frightened that they would get hurt. Seeing him come through that door unscathed had been the most wonderful thing in the world.
He pulled up to her house and parked in the lot off the lane. Lacey waited for him to come around and help her out of the car. Time inched by, and the sexual tension was as thick as cream. He wrapped his arm around her again and walked her inside and up the stairs. It was getting harder to take a full breath, and her breasts were heavy beneath her shirt and lightweight jacket. Her pussy was wet and aching, and she well knew that Greg was very much aware of the state she was in. He was sporting an impressive bulge in his slacks and making no effort to conceal it, and he seemed as taut as a bow string. She marveled at how they once again smoothly telegraphed their needs and desires to the other as she fumbled her apartment keys out of her pocket. It was as if they had never been apart. Greg took them from her to open the door and let her precede him inside. He flicked the light on before shutting the door and locking it, reaching behind him to do so, never taking his eyes off of her face.
Then they crashed together, their mouths meshing, tongues dueling and exploring with ravenous memory. Greg wound his hands through her hair, dislodging her hair clip, to further deepen the kiss and then picked her up to carry her into the bedroom. One of Lacey’s shoes fell off and clattered to the floor, and her toes curled under. Greg stood her down and began to pull off her clothes, his face intent and masked with desire. Buttons popped, and fabric tore, and then her hands were clawing at his shirt, trying to get to the thickly muscled chest beneath. They fell onto the bed in a state of disarray. Lacey still had her panties and socks on. Greg had somehow dispensed with his pants and boxers, but his shirt hung from one arm because his cuff was still buttoned, and he still wore one of his socks. His watch snagged in her hair, but it didn’t matter because he was holding her wrists in one of his big hands above her head in a move that never failed to make her pussy clench and ripple with excitement at the anticipation of being ravaged with her choice taken away. Greg’s mouth descended upon her breasts, and Lacey moaned at the sensation of having her nipples sucked and nibbled into hard, oh-so-sensitive points. She writhed beneath him and moved her legs restlessly against his, trying to arch her core into his solid cock.
“Do I need to tie you down?” Greg’s dark whisper made her freeze in place, and she soaked her panties.
“No. Please, Greg, please.”
“Tell me, Lacey.”
“I need you to fuck me. Please, it’s been so long.”
Greg chuckled against the underside of her left breast and then nipped it. Lacey cried out and tried not to move. He pressed her wrists together in a reminder and turned his attentions back to her breasts, the beaded peaks responding to the gentle abuse. She felt her pelvis involuntarily tilt against him, and he growled and slipped away from her. She called out in protest, but he was back to her almost immediately, and she felt the cold steel of handcuffs. She almost came in that moment. Greg hooked her to the headboard and then reached to switch on the bedside light. The light spilling in from the living room had provided a different kind of ambience, but Greg always wanted to see everything. Lacey fought a sudden sense of awkwardness.
“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s us.” Greg’s insight calmed her, and she smiled up at him. He smoothed her hair back and kissed her with just a hint of tongue before impatiently yanking his shirt completely off and tossing it onto the floor, followed by his sock. He knelt beside her, and Lacey stared at his muscled torso and the way his cock throbbed and smacked against his belly. Her tongue crept out to flick against her bottom lip, and his eyes darkened. He reached down to casually stroke himself, and she heard the whisper of his callused hand against the silken skin of his hard-on. He brought his thumb to her mouth, and she sucked it in, reveling in the small taste of his pre-cum. He moved to settle between her thighs, pushing them apart and bending her legs to set her feet flat on the bed. His big hands met at her apex and took hold of her panties. He ripped them with a single flex of his wrists and tore them from her, and she saw his eyes darken further with desire as he stared at her pussy. Lacey panted with anticipation, and Greg folded her legs up to her chest, pushing them wide to fully open her to him.
“Do not move, Lacey.” Greg dropped his shoulders to ensure that she was pinned in place and then lowered his mouth to her. Lacey screamed. She couldn’t help herself. It felt like she was being consumed by heat and friction as Greg sucked and nibbled and bit her folds and lanced his tongue inside of her, working his way up to her clit. Her orgasm rolled up and over her from the abyss, and she clenched her thighs around his head on the strength of it. He barely let her come down before licking her right into another. Lacey began to beg, rolling her head from side to side, trying to orient herself. She didn’t know what she wanted him to do, if she wanted him to stop or continue. Her senses were on fire, and she couldn’t pull enough air into her laboring lungs, and she needed and wanted. After her third climax, Greg relented and lifted up to let her legs drop back to the bed, rubbing them to allow the blood to flow back before lowering his body over hers.
“Look at me, honey.”
Lacey pried her eyes open and stared into Greg’s. He notched his cock between her legs and at her opening. His face glistened with evidence of her arousal, and she could smell the scents of musk and alkaline. It triggered all those memories of their sexual past, and she longed for them with everything she had, from the intense fantasy games to the sweet, vanilla times and to the exhibitionism, the pain and pleasure, at the club.
“Can you take me, Lacey?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Her throat was sore from screaming her ecstasy, and it was a wonder Edith hadn’t come to check on her. If David hadn’t been away, he would have been pounding on her door with concern, and wouldn’t that have been interesting? She tried to lift her hands in a mute request that he free them, but Greg shook his head.
“No choices, honey. I won’t hurt you, but I’m doing this my way.” He began to push up inside of her, making slow progress against the tightness of her channel. Little beads of sweat popped out on his brow, and his handsome face was etched in sexual pain as he concentrated on getting his iron-hard shaft inside. Lacey just lay passively and felt every inch of him penetrate her, each tiny ridge and ripple stretch her wider. She lost herself in the feelings and sensations until he bumped her cervix. He waited for her to adjust to him, somehow controlling his so-very-evident need, and then unleashed a storm of thrusts that filled her and stretched her further and overwhelmed her. She fought coming, and Greg muttered above her, rotating his pelvis to grind against her clit and prod her G-spot, and she went over yet again, clamping down on him in near pain. He groaned and flooded her with heat, then collapsed to the side, the bed creaking in concert. Lacey shuddered, her body pushed to its limits after such a hiatus, and then she knew nothing further.