I’m lying down on a cot in the jail cell the cops stuck me in, staring at the ceiling. It’s stiflingly hot in this cell, and the walls are just plain cinder blocks. I’ve been here for six hours, long enough for the cops to have booked me into the system. My fingertips are still black with the now-dry ink.

I haven’t been in here long enough to be wearing anything other than my blood stained shirt and jeans, though. I reflexively touch my face, thinking of the source of most of the blood.

My nose is swollen, sensitive to my touch. I try to ignore that. It’s not hard, because I keep replaying in my mind what happened.

I open the door of the restaurant. I look to my right, and there is pretty little Emma, being slammed up against the building by that douchebag.

Then I lose control.

I rewind it in my head a little, coming back again and again to look at one particular thing. The terrified look in Emma’s eyes, the way he had his hands on her arms, his fingers digging into her flesh…

No one touches Emma like that, ever. I would be upset over any woman getting hurt in front of me, but that stupid idiot touched her. A girl that a part of me still thought of as mine.

It’s no surprise that I saw red.

There was no doubt in my mind, then or now, that I did the right thing. As soon as the cops rolled up, I shut my mouth, refusing to say anything. I have heard stories about people that talk without a lawyer present, and they’re not pretty. So I asked for a lawyer as soon as I was arrested, and the police haven’t pushed me on that yet.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to wind up in court for defending a woman from an abuser. So I’ve been biding my time, trying not to get too worked up over the fact that I am trapped in this brick room with absolutely no view outside.

I adjust the flimsy pillow that’s under my head. With no phone and nothing else to distract me, I find myself focusing on Emma. Replaying the whole night, again and again, almost like meditating.

Seeing her enter the restaurant with that ridiculous man child. Feeling my chest tighten every time she leaned over and glanced at me around Forest’s head. Watching as she fled the restaurant.

Flinging the front door open to find her pinned against the wall, helpless and afraid.

If I could go back in time and do it all again, I would do it the same damn way. Even though it landed me here, I would rather be in here and know that my girl is safe.

My girl. My mouth twists at that. All I can say right now is fuck Asher for making that stupid rule, and fuck me too for following it.

“Jameson Hart!” a guard shouts outside my cell. I sit up, tensing. The door unlocks, and the guard swings it open, looking in. “You’re free to go. Come on.”

Not one to question being given my freedom, I spring up. I follow the guard down a labyrinth of hallways, stopping at a window to collect my shoes, my phone, and my wallet.

“Am I being charged with anything?” I ask the guard as I put my shoes back on.

“Nah. Richard Spencer, the guy you pounded? He basically wouldn’t stop talking once he got here. He admitted to throwing the first punch, and to assaulting the girl he was with. What a fuckin’ piece of work. I’m glad you gave him what he was askin’ for.”

The guard rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

I just nod, figuring that I’ll stick to not talking to the cops, regardless of the circumstances. It takes a few more minutes for them to go through my release paperwork. I keep my trap shut and sign where they tell me.

The next thing I know, I’m stepping out into the humid night air. I look around at the nondescript parking lot that I exited to, checking my phone. I have a whole bunch of texts and missed calls from Forest and Asher, telling me to call them if and when I get out.

I don’t feel like calling one of them for a ride though, honestly. I just want to take a shower and lay in my own bed. I open the Uber app and search for a ride home.

“Jameson?”

I look up to find Emma heading my way after sliding out of a strange black Range Rover, looking tired as hell. She has to walk a fair distance from her car to where I’m standing; I start to walk towards her, a little dazed that she would even be here.

She went home and changed, obviously, because she’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and a little denim skirt. But her hair is a mess, and she’s wearing fluffy bunny slippers on her feet.

She has never looked so good to me as she does now, barreling towards me in the parking lot.

“Hey—” I start to greet her. Then I groan as she all but tackles me, hugging me around the torso so hard that I wince.

I stand there for a second, stunned. Of all the reactions that I expected, this wasn’t one of them. I wrap my arms around her, enjoying the feel of her in my arms.

Emma looks up at me, tears shining in her eyes. “Thank you for coming to my defense, Jameson. I am so, so sorry that you got arrested because of me.”

She hugs me again, slipping her arms around my neck and burying her face against my neck. I can’t resist the urge to lean down and smell her hair, taking a deep inhalation of her feminine scent.

“You weren’t to blame,” I murmur against her hair, cradling her head. “You did nothing wrong.”

She doesn’t even look at me this time. “I went on a date with him, didn’t I?”

“You can’t have known it would end up like this.” I gently pry her back a couple of inches, even though I never want to let her go. Her tear stained face breaks my heart. “I can’t stand to see you cry.”

Her emerald eyes are large and mesmerizing, her face sweetly heart shaped. I cup the side of her face in one hand, pushing back some of her wild hair. Her lips are luscious and inviting, and they part ever so slightly when my gaze drops to look at them.

I don’t honestly know whether I move first or she does, but we both surge forward. My lips find hers, hesitating at first. But once I get the taste of her in my mouth, the scent of her in my nose, I go wild.

Then there is nothing gentle about the way that I grab her, hauling her up against me. I’m already hard for her, imagining the sweet satisfaction that I’m about to find at the apex of her thighs. My tongue seeks hers and she opens her mouth to me, urging me on.

Emma makes this sound, a mewling sound, but more guttural. The sound makes the fine hair on the back of my neck stand up and my whole body tingles for a second. I pull her body up against mine, rubbing her tits across my chest. She moans and wraps her legs around my torso.

Fuck, she feels so good. Far better than in my imagination. I carry her back towards her car, trying to figure out how I’m going to get her back to my house. It seems impossible to put her down and calmly drive somewhere else, but I can’t just have sex with her here in the parking lot of the jail, either.

She starts to kiss my neck, sucking hard on my earlobe. My eyes roll into the back of my head for the briefest moment and I stumble. Emma seems totally unworried about our surroundings.

Maybe she’s completely oblivious to my thought process about how I can fuck her the fastest. But when I get to her car, pressing her against the driver’s side door, she looks up at me. Her eyes are filled with the same impatient lust as mine.

“Take me right here, right now,” she demands, her voice low and throaty. “I need you, Jameson.”

Lust fills my veins like lead. Her words are the balm I’ve needed for so long; it feels like it’s been aeons since I’ve been inside her, instead of weeks.

Still, I shake my head. “No. Not here.”

“Yes,” she whispers in my ear. She grabs my hand, pulling it down her body, until I’m touching the front of her panties. They’re damp, soaked by her need. Her words turn pleading. “Now. In the car. I need you inside me right now.”

At the same time, she reaches down between us, feeling the outline of my cock through my pants.

Fuck. It’s hard to think, hard to speak. Especially when she pleads so sweetly for me to fuck her.

Emma pulls the keys for the Range Rover and unlocks the car. She puts her feet down and wriggles a little bit to try to pull on the door handle.

“Uh uh,” I say, my eyes burning into hers. I step back, leaving her looking at me with a note of shock on her face. She thinks I’m turning down sex, which is almost funny. “If you need it as badly as you say, get your ass in the back and fold the seats down. I need room to work.”

Her eyes widen a bit, but she hurries around to the very back of the car, opening the gate. I don’t give her any space or time. I’m right on her heels, watching her as she puts the seats down.

As soon as she makes the back seat flat, I give her a little push.“Get inside,” I order.

I get immense pleasure out of watching her miles of fantastic legs and ass as she scurries into the back of the Range Rover. I climb in the back, pulling down the gate behind me.

It’s still a little crowded, being that I’m almost six and a half feet tall. But when she gets herself turned around, biting her lip and looking up at me, I suddenly feel that same urgency as I felt earlier.

And when Emma starts to undress, pulling her shirt up over her head, that urgency takes over. I pull my shirt off too, lying down.

“Get your panties off,” I growl. “I want you to ride me, right fucking now.”

She looks at me with those wide, innocent eyes and starts to unzip her skirt.

“No. Leave it on,” I tell her. “And take the panties off. Don’t make me tell you again.”

I unzip my own pants as she shimmies her panties down her legs, kicking them off with her shoes. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my boxer briefs, shoving them and my pants down to the middle of my thighs.

My cock springs free, long and thick, the tip of it already slick with precum. Emma’s hand is on my cock instantly, her fist closing around it.

Fuck, that feels so good.

It’s been so long since I felt her little fist gripping my dick that I close my eyes when she touches me. She gives me a few experimental strokes, testing the waters. But when I see her head going down to my cock, I have to stop her.

“No, not now,” I grit out, guiding her face up to mine. “I don’t want to blow my load in your mouth. I want your pussy, and I want it right now.”

She straddles me, breathing a little bit faster. I force her head down and kiss her, even as I lift my hips up. My cock touches her warm inner thigh. I close my eyes for the briefest moment, distracting myself with the names of gin brands.

Genever, Bombay, Tanqueray, Beefeater, Citadelle, Aviation, Hendrick’s, Seagrams…

I open my eyes, realizing that I should’ve definitely jacked off in the last couple days. Or maybe been with a girl that was less hot than Emma, who was straight up bombshell.

I kiss her, pressing her ass down so that her knees widen.

“You’re going to have to ride slow,” I warn. “I’m so fucking hot for you right now, I can barely see straight.”

She gives me a wicked grin. “Is that right?”

I just grunt, pressing her down again. I use my free hand to stand my cock straight up, groaning when the blunt tip touches her pussy lips. They are already dripping with moisture.

Emma’s been waiting for me, it seems.

She sinks down on my dick, her expression enraptured. I have to close my eyes and list whiskey brands while she stretches to take all of me.

“Fuck!” I mutter. “God damn, you’re so tight, baby. So wet. So perfect.”

When she finally takes all of my cock, I pull her down for a long, slow kiss.

“Are you ready?” she asks, already breathless.

To answer her question, I move my hips upward. She cries out, but she doesn’t stop. No, she keeps going, her actions growing frenzied. Her pussy grips my cock as she rides me.

I move my hand down between our bodies, rubbing her clit. I am going to make damn sure that she comes when I do… and I’m going to come pretty damn soon.

“Oh my god,” she says, leaning forward. “Omigod, right there…”

I can feel her tensing and clenching, getting close to the edge.

“Fuck. That’s right. I love the way you ride me, Em. The way that sweet pussy grips my cock so tight—”

That little bit of dirty talk is enough to push her over the edge. She cries out, her pussy spasming wildly, her nails scoring the flesh of my chest.

I let myself go, pumping up into her body with abandon. I can feel the orgasm before it hits, feel it down low in my balls. It tears loose and I thrust upward again and again, her greedy little pussy milking my cock of every drop.

I slow, then stop, trying to catch my breath. She lays sprawled across my chest, her breathing rapid, covered in a layer of sweat. Not just hers, but mine, too.

I close my eyes and hold her close, enjoying the musky smells coming from us both, and the moment of closeness.

It’s not enough, just being with her. It’s not nearly enough.

But I’ll take what I can get, for right now.