Chapter Text
“Hey, I’m taking her for some air,” the nice Lieutenant yelled over to the other officer.
“Dammit O’Brien, I need her statement,” came the reply.
“Hey fucktard, I’ll get your goddamn statement, but she needs some air. So go fuck yourself and focus on the scumbag.”
“Yeah, who called you anyway.”
“Your mother did as I was fucking her brains out last night,” and that was the one that caused Autumn burst into hysterical laughter.
“Sorry about that,” he tells her as he indicates the ramp toward the beach. “Let’s walk.”
Trying to stop the giggles long enough to tell him it was ok, she just shakes her head realizing that she was going into shock, she simply sits down on the sand at the bottom of the ramp as the tears start. He gently wraps his jacket around her shoulders and sits beside her as the tears fall and just waits. About twenty minutes later, she realized that her head was resting on his shoulder and the night was silent. “Thank you,” she quietly tells him.
“So what happened?” he asks.
“Ex-boyfriend. I haven’t heard from him in years. I’m not even from this state, and there he was today.”
“Why’d you break-up?”
“You mean besides him being a narcisstic gaslighting alcoholic asshole? He held a gun to my head and beat the hell out of me in front of my kids? I pressed charges. Kinda takes the romance out of things. They gave him simple assault and probation.”
“So why are you in town?”
“Apartment hunting. I need a change and recently became a Licensed Psychologist in this state and I’ve always wanted to live near the ocean.”
Standing up, he holds out his hand, “Come on, let’s walk.”
After he finally getting her to talk about tonight, of which he hid his rage well, she finally asked as they walked along the beach, “So, what kind of detective are you?”
“Major Crimes,” he answers with a grin.
“Oh, so you’re a badass,” she says earning a chuckle in return.
“Yeah, what can I say, it’s the Scot in me,” he tells her, and his accent was utterly charming when he chose to use it.
“Well Lieutenant,” she sassily tells him, “I’d let you kidnap me if only to listen to you talk. But I get the temper, I’ve got some Scot in me.”
“You want some more,” he whispers in her ear, as the breeze from the ocean picks up and she pulls his jacket tighter around her shoulders.
“Let’s get you back,” he tells her, gently gripping her elbow.
After Nick O’Brien left the sassy redhead, he went straight to the station. His partner, Brian, was meeting him there. It was late and overnight was run with a skeleton crew and he was planning on using that to his advantage. Reaching lockup, he found the piece of shit he was looking for and handing his badge, gun, and jacket to his partner he entered the enclosed space. “So,” he said to the perp who had followed Autumn down from Pennsylvania, “Let’s you and I have a small chat.”
Two hours later as he was washing the blood from his hands Brian finally asked, “Should I know what that was over?”
“Nope, just give me the alibi we discussed, and we are good,” Nick tells him, grabbing this badge off the sink beside him.
“And what’s that?”
“We had beers at your place,” Nick tells him, before leaving the washroom and exiting the rest area into the silence of the night.
***************
It took Autumn a month to move, but it was worth it as she walked out onto her porch that overlooked the ocean. The waves crashed against the rocks and sand, the breeze brought the smell of sand and surf directly into her home. She was in heaven. The knock on her door as she was unpacking was unexpected, finding Nick O’Brien standing there however wasn’t unwelcome.
“Hi, come in,” she tells him.
“I see you finally made it,” he says looking around.
“Not much to see yet,” she says. “The movers just left and it’s all just boxes. The bed isn't even together, and I can’t find my plates to have dinner,” she giggles.
“No plates, we’ll that’s a problem,” Nick says moving farther into the room. “So any more problems with Patrick?” he casually asks.
“Not since we last talked about it,” she tells him handing him a wine cooler. “Sorry I don’t drink beer, so I don’t have any to offer.”
“Yeah,” he says after taking a drink, “That’ll need to change,” he tells her with a grin. They had been talking the last month. Nick had initiated the conversations with an innocent call to check on her, and soon they were calling and texting daily discussing everything from her daughters, McKenna and Cassady, to favorite types of porn, and those were very different nights and very different conversations and one night she’d convinced him to video chat her because she hadn’t wanted to drink alone. The things he’d learned that night he would use to his advantage.
“So, where’s the girls?”
“Staying with my mom for the week until I can get the house in order. So, you actually stop by an see me huh?”
“Yes, Autumn. I actually put it on my calendar and took the day off,” he says, walking closer to her. “So how about pizza and I’ll help you get that bed together.”
“I have a lot more than a bed Lt. O’Brien,” she breathlessly tells him.
“Nick,” he tells her, voice dropping into a husky timbre, “And would you like some help Autumn. I’d love to stay and get to know you better, beyond a few shared text messages and our long intimate phone calls. Please don’t tell me no.”
“Mac, my friends call me Mac.”
Hours later, she walked out of her bathroom, her arms full of boxes, the linen finally folded if not put away. She placed the empty boxes in the corner of the living room and stretched. From the corner of her eye, she saw him, he was now shirtless, carrying a box into the kitchen, and his back was straining with its weight. The setting sun pierced through the windows, outlining his form. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.
When did his texts begin to give her small flutters to her stomach? When did she begin to find any excuse to message him, to call him, just so that she could feel the squirms of pleasure coursing through her? And how the hell did he begin to play the leading role in her fantasies as she rubbed herself each night, bringing herself to countless orgasms as the reel of imagination projected ever more erotic scenarios onto the screen of her brain - when did that happen?
She noticed the small rivulet of sweat meandering down his neck, and she wanted nothing more than to lick it clean before sinking her teeth into his flesh. She looked at his hands as they tore the packing tape from the box and she could feel them on her body, pinning her wrists, stroking her neck. His scent of sweat filled her nostrils and she could feel her mouth water.
"What?" he interrupted; his smile quizzical. She had been staring. She shook her head and threw him a dazzling smile.
"Nothing," she replied. "Just thinking about starting work. I still have to set up the office.” At that moment she mentally kicked herself, but really, what could she do? Tell him that she was picturing herself on her knees in front of him as he grasped her hair and plummeted her throat?
Walking over, he asked, "How about we go out for that pizza that I promised?" He reached over swipe the streak of dust off her cheek.
"Do you mind if I take a quick shower before?" she grinned.
"Be my guest,” he tells her, with a breathtaking grin, “I just found your Keurig and my second favorite drug, coffee.”
“What’s the first?” she asks.
“Sex,” he tells her his grin turning dangerous and dark.
She laughed as she sashayed into the lavatory, removing the bandana from her head that kept her hair clean.
The door didn't quite close; she could hear him washing his hands and face in the kitchen. Staring into the mirror, she told the reflection to get herself together. Pinning her hair into a knot, she quickly stripped and turned on the shower. She gasped as hot jets hit her back. The door may be broken, but at least the hot water tank is fully operational. She wasn't all that dirty, mostly just dusty. She rinsed her body, lightly massaging her skin with a washcloth. She stifled a moan as the rough fabric grazed her nipples, hardening them. When she reached the apex of her thighs, she hesitated, glancing out the curtain and through the half open door, watching him putter around, moving with his sure movements. She bit her lower lip. Should she? They weren't sleeping together; they weren't even dating. Was it even appropriate?
She realized that she didn't care.
Closing her eyes, her fingers drifted. A tiny moan strangled as her hand moved in its familiar pattern, circling her clit as the water pounded on her back. She slipped a finger in and drew out her juices, smearing the hard bud. She luxuriated in the moment, the steam, tingles and the water titillating her.
She reluctantly stopped. As much as she would love to continue, to rub herself to that release that her body desperately craved, it just... didn't feel right. With a sigh, she continued to briskly wash her body and turned off the water.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she stepped out of the shower only to notice her fatal mistake. She forgot her clean clothes. She never unpacked them.
The bag that held them were by the entrance, right beside the kitchen where he was leaning against the counter, drinking a mug of coffee. There was no way she could sneak out to grab it and there was no way that she would put her dusty clothes back on.
So, she did the next best thing that she could think of in that moment of aroused panic. She walked out, her spine stiff, her gait as casual as she could make it. She almost convinced herself that this was something she did regularly, walking out in a skimpy towel after taking a shower in front of gorgeous men. All she needed was to be confident and smooth and unperturbed. All she needed to do was to glide and slink and...and proceed to stumble on an empty box that was discarded in her path. So much for an innocuous moment.
He looked up, the mug paused halfway to his lips, and he took in the image that stood in front of him: a dripping wet woman, fresh from a shower, her damp hair messily pinned, a towel wrapped around her chest, barely hiding her nakedness. A strangled groan escaped from his throat as he swore under his breath. He placed his coffee on the counter and straightened. He licked his lips. She imperceptibly glanced down and noticed a slight hardening, mirroring her increased arousal. The air grew tense as they stared at each other.
He took a single step forward and stopped. He rearranged his belt which did nothing to mask his growing hardness.
She took a deep breath, masking her thundering heart.
"Do you want me?" she asked, her voice low, husky with desire.
"Yes," he whispered hoarsely.
"How much do you want me?”
"Very much."
She simply dropped her towel. "Show me."
She stood, naked, water slowly dripping down her body, the rising moon bathing the room, kissing her wet skin. She straightened her back slightly to hide the trembling of her thighs and stared him deep in his eyes.
His sharp inhale reverberated across the room, breaking the heavy silence.
He crossed to her in four steps and cradled the back of her head, pulling her in for his kiss, his fingers loosening her messy, damp bun, releasing the cascade of hair. His demanding lips surprised her for a brief moment before she fiercely kissed him, her tongue sparring with his. She wove her fingers in his hair, trapping his head to her mouth.
He cupped her ass and pressed her to him. She could feel his bulge and groaning deep in her throat, she sank her teeth into his lower lip. His arms crushed her against him, and he kissed again. They pulled apart and he bent his lips to her neck, licking the drops of water from her skin. She arched against him; she could feel the thundering of his heart pounding in time with hers.
Growing impatient, she slipped her hands to his sides and began to lift the shirt he had just put back on which should be illegal, revealing his torso. Throwing the garment to the side, she licked up the center of his chest, and reaching his throat, placed tiny kisses across his skin. He groaned and pulled her closer to him, his jeans scratching her tender skin. They swayed for a moment in a half dance to music that they only could hear, moving in the general direction of her room.
They somehow made it to the bedroom, to the foot of the yet-unmade bed with the entire contents of the linen closet neatly covering it. In two swipes, all the pillows, sheets, blankets, and comforter that were piled on the bed made its way to the floor. They turned to each other, his hands rubbing her arms as she fumbled with his belt. She managed to unbuckle it when she lost her footing and tumbled onto the nest they had just made, pulling him down with her by the waist of his jeans.
He leaned over to kiss her again as she continued to work on the seemingly arduous task of removing his jeans. His fingers gently tweaked her nipples, softly playing her breasts. His hand traced its way down her belly, and through her soaked cleft, his caress teasing. She shifted her hips and opened her legs. The light touch was maddening. She growled.
He opened her legs and gently kissed her inner thighs, his breath warm over her wet sex. Her clit was throbbing. He settled in between them and blew on her smooth lips, swollen with desire. Lowering his head, his tongue snaked out and circled her hard nub. At his warm touch, she moaned, and jolts settled into the base of her spine. His teeth lightly holding her clit, his tongue continued its sweet assault, relentless in its desire to taste her.
"Oh fuck," she cursed. Her hands tightened in his hair as her hips rolled over his probing tongue. She arched, her heels and head the only parts of her body touching their makeshift nest. His hands, warm on her hips, held her steady to his mouth, not letting her go. Pulling his face into her streaming sex, she called out, the liquid fire coursing through her body, taking her by surprise. She never had an orgasm take her so quickly.
He moaned against her, lapping at the flowing juices. She tugged at his hair, pulling his head up from between her legs. His chin glittered with her wetness. She smiled her invitation and he crawled up to her. With his help, she was finally able to remove his jeans and boxer-briefs. His naked body hovered over hers, his shaft hard and pressing against her thigh. She reached down and grasped him, guiding towards her. He gently took her hand away and shook his head. She looked at him in surprise for a brief moment until she felt him rubbing the head over her entrance, teasing her. With a sigh, she wrapped her legs around him, feeling his pulsing hardness against her clit.
He slowly entered her. Too slowly. She tightened her legs around his waist to push him deeper, to push him quicker, to feel the length of him embedded deep within her. He stopped.
“Slow down sweetheart," he whispered. "I’m not going anywhere."
He gradually pressed in deeper in small increments, her soaked walls enveloping his shaft. The sensuous torture was almost unbearable. She whimpered. Gripping his shoulders, she tried to impale herself on him. He pulled out slightly. She swore.
"Fuck," he murmured, his voice tight. She could tell that there was nothing more he wanted to do than to thrust himself completely into her warmth. "Fuck," he swore again. "Christ, you feel good." His fists tightened in her hair; his back was straining with the effort.
She cupped his face in her hands and drew his lips to hers. She could taste herself on his tongue, an intoxicating blend of desire and coffee.
Inch by agonizing inch, he slowly sank himself into her until he could go no further. They both sighed. They began to move, hips rolling, their pelvises molding together. With every fluid thrust, he pushed himself deep into her, kissing her cervix, the dull pain radiating through her body. She arched in pleasure, her nails digging into his back. He began to move faster, deeper, harder. She could feel the ball of tension quickly building again, her moans vibrating through her, her hands gripping him tighter with each thrust.
"Please," she gasped. "Fuck please..." She licked her lips. "Please," she pleaded.
He moved his lips to her ear. "You cum when I say you cum,” he whispered, his breath tickling her. She could only moan in response. Of course, that was the one late night drunk conversation he remembered, her submissive streak. She tightened herself around him.
He kissed her as he pushed himself as deep as he could go. His thrusts were sure, but wild. Their groans became wordless urgings, encouraging each other to reach the heights of exquisite ecstasy.
"Cum with me." It was an order; it was a request. It was perhaps one of the most erotic things someone ever told her. That one little demand embodied everything that she knew him to be. “Cum!” he growled.
She arched as he slammed into her, his jerking shaft buried deep, nestled against her cervix. That ball of tension finally exploded, the liquid spread taking over her body as her walls convulsed around him. Her fingers dug deep into his back, marking his skin. She could feel the flush heat emanating from her clit and base of her spine, coursing through her blood. She could hear his groan of release interjected with the low, deep moan that ripped from her throat.
He collapsed onto her, panting, his arms tight around her shoulders. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, her breathing jagged. She swallowed hard. He rolled off of her, taking her with him, settling her on his chest.
She kissed his jaw, nuzzling him, tracing her hand over his arms. The cool air lightly kissed the sweat from their bodies, the rapid tattoo of their hearts slowing, their breaths more even. He stroked the soft skin of her neck; she purred.
Silence reigned for long moments. She raised her head, her eyes twinkling.
"Well, that was better than pizza," she teased him.
He chuckled, “I’m still feeding you, and after we can try out the bed.”