We arrived at the wooden gates to his property, a sprawling acreage that had been in the Danner family for years that his father had gifted to him, because he hated the dirt and distance from town. It was a low ranch-style house that almost resembled a barn, the two garage doors and the front door like barn doors, the wood siding painted a buttery yellow and the deep wraparound porch white with scrolled detailing. There was a red barn a hundred yards behind the house to the left where Danner kept his two horses, Chief and Beauty, and an empty swimming pool that he hadn’t gotten around to restoring.
It didn’t suit him just as much as it did.
It was a family house and despite valiant efforts by the female community of Entrance, Danner was still a bachelor and only twenty-six six, fresh from the RCMP training force and ready to make a name for himself in his hometown.
It was the house of a cowboy sheriff though, so I loved it for him.
I’d even helped him decide on a few items of furniture when he moved in right after King and I moved back home with our dad when he was twenty, and I’d been there numerous times since, especially after I’d misbehaved or got into trouble and he swooped in to save me.
He put me in the guest bedroom and closed the door before I could snark at him, or thank him. Both were bad ideas for different reasons, but his anger left me feeling hollow and wrong, as if the slightest breeze would have me caving in on myself.
I sighed loudly, rubbing at the dull pain of a coming hangover between my temples then decided that showering would probably help. I shucked my clothes, leaving them littered across the room as if it was my home because in a way, having spent so much time there and feeling about Danner the way I did, it was. I padded naked into the adjoining bathroom and ordered the music system to play “I Hate Myself For Loving You,” so loud the walls reverberated around me as I stepped under the spray.
I soaped my body thinking of how strong Danner’s hands were, how firm they would feel squeezing my smallish, pink-tipped breasts, the fingers abrasive with calluses from guitar playing. My nipples beaded as I slicked my sudsy hand down my belly over the soft tangle of hair I kept over my sex then down even further to the well of wet at my core. I slid my fingers through my silky folds, imagining Danner on his knees, his nose to my clit as he tongue-fucked my pussy, his fingers hard enough to bruise on my ass.
I was too naive to understand why I wanted that edge of pain, why it felt right that even on his knees before me, Danner was the one in control, dictating my pleasure like a ruthless, callous judge.
I just knew I wanted to please him. I knew that I wore his displeasure like a hair shirt beneath my clothes, itching and scratching until I was slowly driven insane enough to beg him for forgiveness however he saw fit to grant it.
Secretly, sometimes when I lay awake in the morning after doing something particularly bad with a hangover and somber regrets, I wondered if I didn’t act out because some sick, twisted part of me actually craved his censure.
He wasn’t an affectionate, open guy, but when he scowled at me, his whole face transformed by passion, and he reprimanded me with harsh words in that rough tone, I could feel the weight of his intensity for me like a fur mantle around my shoulders. It was a heathen way to feel acknowledged, but it made sense given the brutal savagery with which my teenage heart yearned for him.
I didn’t bring myself to climax in the shower. It was tempting to orgasm when he was so close, just a few thin walls away, just as it was strangely depressing to get off in his house, thinking of him, without his actual hands on me.
I turned off the music as I rubbed myself down with the towel, then grabbed the Entrance PD tee Danner had taken to leaving for me on top of the dresser and slid it over my wet head.
A sound caught my attention, just something faint like the howl of a winter storm moaning through the house or the groan of a tree rubbing against the roof in the wind.
I moved closer to the wall of windows and heard it again.
This time stronger.
Another moan, another groan and now, a wail.
I inched along the wall running perpendicular to my bed and the noise grew more and more discernable until I hit the wall the headboard of the bed was pressed against.
The same one this room shared with Danner’s.
My hand flew to my mouth as I realized what I was hearing.
I could hear him through the wall.
Not enough, not nearly enough to make out the specifics of what he was doing, but I had grown up with a brother and a father and a whole host of fake uncles, so I’d heard it before.
Lion was jerking off.
I ran to the glass Danner kept on the sink to hold my toothbrush, dumped that into the basin, and then climbed onto my bed, glass pressed to the wall, my ear pressed to the glass.
Better.
I could hear it now, the faint thwap, thwap, thwap of his hand sliding over his hard cock, the harsh gust of his breath as he exhaled and then, the even quieter sound of the porn he was watching.
“Spread them,” a man’s voice. “Spread them wide and show me that pink cunt.”
I shivered at the order in that voice, at the way it sent a pulse from my brain down my spine and straight between my legs where it throbbed, wet and warm.
There was the sharp noise of flesh hitting flesh and then, “Do you like it when I spank your pussy?”
The woman moaned, long and low. I echoed her softly as I wrenched off my underwear and slid a finger through the molten wet at my core.
“Count them,” the man ordered. “You’ll take five slaps and you’ll thank me for them. If you please me, I’ll let you suck my cock. Would you like that?”
“Yes, sir, please sir. I’ll suck you off so well.”
Danner groaned then and muttered, “Fuck yeah, open your mouth and suck me off.”
My thighs quivered as I sunk two fingers in my pussy and curled them deeper. I couldn’t believe this was Danner I was listening to, that the gentleman cop could get off on something so goddamn dirty.
I fucking loved it.
I listened with him to the man play with his woman, to the way he ordered her around in cool, commanding tones that brokered no argument and the way the woman got off on it, screaming as he ate her out and begging for his cock on her tongue and his cum in her mouth.
I was begging too, under my breath, begging for the same things from Danner.
When the climax happened on screen, it triggered my own. I came hard on my hand, soaking my palm and the inside of my thighs.
I groaned, “Thank you, Danner,” as I came just as the woman in the video thanked her Dom.
Just as the man said, “You take my fucking cum.”
And Danner did too, only he said, “Fuck yeah, take my fucking cum, Harleigh Rose.”
I gasped loudly and the glass I’d been holding up against the wall slid from my listless fingers, falling to the floor with a discernable crash.
“Fuck,” I said before I could help it, clasping my hands over my mouth, the fingers of one tacky with my juices.
“What the fuck?” Danner growled from the other room and then, before I could pull my panties back on over my swollen sex or pretend I’d been doing anything other than spying on him, the door to the bedroom swung open and he was there, growling low in his throat, his eyes tropical green with hot anger.
I watched his nostrils flare as he took in the sex sweet air in the room, as his anger grew darker and turned into something else, something I wasn’t sure I should be terrified of.