Loving Sarah

By: Julie Shelton

Prologue




Christ, it’s hotter’n fuckin’ Hades in here! Darting the narrow flashlight beam around the dark interior of the garage apartment, he grunted irritably as sweat trickled down his back, rolled down his chest, and dripped off his chin. Sheets covered the furniture, boxes were stacked everywhere—place is a fuckin’ storage area. Not that he was in any position to quibble over the accommodations. Of course, it sucked that the electrical service had been disconnected, although he would never have been stupid enough to turn on the lights or AC—too risky. But he had planned on watching a little TV. What the fuck was he gonna do with no fuckin’ TV? God damn it, it’s hot in here! He’d been there less than five minutes, and already his jeans and T-shirt were soaked and he was beginning to smell like a warthog’s armpit.

Oh, shit. Abruptly, he strode over to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet, exhaling with a loud whoosh of relief. Thank God, the water’s still connected. If he kept hydrated and took a couple of long, cold showers, it’d be okay. After all, he wasn’t gonna be there long enough to worry about getting heatstroke—few hours, tops. And he could always just strip down to his underwear. Or even go naked. Who would give a shit? An evil grin split the lower half of his face, stretching his pierced lips into a grotesque caricature of a smile.

Shrugging out of his backpack, he tossed it onto a chair, sending a cloud of dust billowing up around his face. Coughing fitfully, he unzipped several pockets and rummaged through them, before finally pulling out several sticks of beef jerky. He ripped one package open with his teeth and spit the plastic wrapping onto the floor. Biting off a chunk of meat, he began chewing noisily. He walked over to the window and pushed the curtain aside with the back of his hand. A silver Prius was parked out in front of the graceful antebellum mansion, but the house was dark. Was she in there? Was she asleep? Does she sleep in the nude? His grin widened into a gargoyle’s grimace.

To hell with waiting until the wee hours of the morning. Maybe he’d just go over there and snatch her right now. Christ! He was hard just thinking about it. Just thinking about pounding his dick into that wet, hot pussy—the pussy he’d been dreaming about for eleven years. He’d fuck her over and over again until he was too cross-eyed to see. Then he’d take her back to the compound and turn her over to the Brotherhood. Oh, yeah. Paybacks are such a bitch!





Chapter One




Uh-oh. She was in trouble now. A quick glance in her rearview mirror confirmed the strobing red-and-blue lights of the unmarked police cruiser behind her, a black Hummer H3 Alpha, powerful and forbidding, with a slight air of menace. Just like its occupant.

Jesse Colter.

Sarah’s throat thickened and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. She shut her eyes, trying to calm herself, but her nerves felt like stinging nettles burning her skin. Why hadn’t anyone told her that the newly hired chief of police she was scheduled to meet with today was Jesse Colter? She’d fled from work the moment she heard his name, desperate to avoid this very encounter. I’m not ready, she thought, pushing against the panic that threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of seeing him again after all these years. I’ll never be ready!

Blowing out her breath, she wiped her sweating hands on her skirt. Her belly clenched as hot juice gathered in her feminine folds. How could he still affect her like this? She hadn’t seen him for eight years. Not since he’d abruptly disappeared the day of her eighteenth birthday.

At least, she hadn’t seen him in person.

But she had seen him nearly every night of those eight years. In her dreams. She’d seen him and tasted him and felt him as if he’d been real. As if he’d been there. She’d seen him rising over her, preparing to enter her. Tasted his full, moist lips and thrusting tongue. Felt his massive cock stretching her, filling her until she was sobbing and screaming out his name—only to wake up on the edge of an explosive orgasm that melted away even as he melted away, like a chalk painting in the rain. Her dreams of Jesse were just that. Dreams.

Eyes riveted to the side mirror, she watched, dry-mouthed, as he unfolded himself from the interior of the Hummer and rose to his full height of six feet three inches. He stood without moving, just staring in her direction, eyes hidden behind his mirrored aviators.