She finally relaxed by the time the police arrived. Matt had everything under control, and Jason under his boot. He’d been standing, leaning his body weight on top of his chest for as long as it took for the cops to arrive. From then on she was busy answering questions in the back of a squad car. They had separated her and Matt, probably to root out any inconsistencies in their stories. But there was nothing to hide. In fact, it had been very straightforward. Jason had attacked both of them with a baseball bat. Matt repelled the attack and basically just kicked his ass. And that was it. Pretty cut and dried.

She would follow up on what Matt had suggested in filing a restraining order. It was said that she’d have no problem getting that through a judge after the latest in a long series of abuses from Jason—who, as she’d just found out, had a prior history. Well, she knew about the prior history— having lived through some of it. But she hadn’t known there’d been women before her. Documented cases. And an arrest record.

Matt was waiting for her when she stepped out of the squad car, wrapping his arm around her and holding her in tight against his muscled torso. She’d stopped crying a long time ago, and now it was just a pleasant numbness. The cops had already carted Jason off to jail and they were wrapping up the investigation in the parking lot. As the last of the squad cars pulled away and drove off into the night, she heard Matt ask if he could still walk her home.

He was actually smiling, like he’d been doing the last time he’d asked that question. Smiling as if nothing had happened. And Laurel was glad for it.

“No,” she said. “We still have time for last call.”

He looked a little surprised. “You want to head back inside?”

“Definitely. I think I need to.”

He shrugged and then lead the way back to the bar, holding the door open for her as they re-entered Whitby’s.

* * *

They stumbled home well after 3am, arm in arm, giggling at nothing like a bunch of kids. She was glad for his company, his easy charm, and the way he got her to laugh through even the most miserable moments of their first night together. After another round or two in the bar, and now, after both of them becoming sufficiently drunk, he was helping her up the stairs of her downtown apartment. There had been no discussion of what would occur once inside. And Laurel didn’t even care. Right now, there was no tomorrow—certainly no presentation. It and the rest of her responsibilities had been wiped clean from her mind. Whether it was from the drinks, or from a swing of Jason’s bat, everything else but the immediate moment had evaporated. How heavenly it was.

For once, she was excited. And living. And she wanted to see where things would go with this new exciting, brave, chivalrous man. Their natural momentum having brought them together so perfectly, and now, through the chaos of the night, it having swept them up together like in a cool evening breeze, carrying them all the way home and up her stairs, and through the door which lead into Laurel’s empty apartment.

Shit. She really was drunk.

“Whoa,” he said, laughing. “Did you just move in here?”

“Yeah, kinda.” That was a lie. She’d been there for over a month.

She stared at him in the empty living room. A man—a stranger, even—standing in her new place. She wanted to reach out and touch him again.

“Be honest,” he said, laughing. “Are you jobless? Are you broke? It’s okay. I can get us dinner or something. Or even just a table to eat off of.” He laughed again after slurring some of the words. But she was glad. She wanted him to enjoy himself. He deserved it.

“I actually just got a promotion,” she said, flipping on the light switch.

“At McDonalds?”

“Alright,” she said, flipping off the light switch on her way to him, creeping up to him through the dark. “That’s enough out of you.”

“Enough?”

She wrapped her arm around his waist.

“Enough comedy. Enough talking.” She stretched up to kiss him, him leaning over at the same time to meet in the dark with a nice hot kiss. She held it there, loving how he wrapped his hand around hers, holding it up as his tongue tasted along her lips. She felt him breathe hard against her, and then suddenly release. She pulled back slightly, noting the odd little smile across his face. He looked surprised. Satisfied.

“You’re right,” he said, gliding his hand down her arm, to her wrist. “Who needs furniture anyway?”

“Well,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I have a bed.”

“Oh . . .”

She laughed and moved away from him, feeling a little dizzy. The moment a little too intense.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She was in kitchen, opening the fridge and almost feeling blinded by the light. “Let’s have some wine.” She drew out a cold bottle of white wine and parked it on the table. The corkscrew was readily available on the counter and she grabbed it and stuck it into the cork.

“So, um . . .” The sound of Matt a little flustered was a new and interesting twist. “So, are you sure you’re okay? I mean, I know you had a pretty crazy night.”

She poured the wine into two glasses. “I’m fine, thanks to you.” He had joined her in the kitchen where she offered him a cold glass of wine. “And, I think my goal now is to just . . . forget about it.”

“We can do that.” He took a sip. “Mmm.”

“You want a snack?” She turned back to the fridge. “Some cheese or something?” She looked around inside, peeking through Tupperware leftovers, opening a drawer. But then his warmth wrapped around her, his body pressed softly against her from behind. He reached past her and shut the fridge door and Laurel turned around, into him, leaning her head against his chest.

“You sure this is okay?” he asked, his voice vibrating through his ribcage.

“I don’t really care.” It was the truth. She was feeling reckless, and excited. And his arms felt so good around her.

“I do.”

She walked forward, moving him slowly backward where his hips backed up against the kitchen’s center island. She reached back behind and placed her wine glass on the table with a tiny clanking sound. She grabbed his glass, wrestling it out of his hands with minimal effort, and doing the same. And then Laurel pressed more of her weight into him, pinning him, showing Matt that maybe he didn’t have a choice. It certainly felt that way, his erection pressing into her. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. She felt it to be sure, his hardness stiffening tighter against his pants, against her, and then her hand trying to grasp it through his pants, and his squirming with her touch. The sound of air escaping his lungs like he’d just been punched in the gut, him weakened now in her kitchen, finally weakened, physically, and brought to someone’s mercy.

His mouth darted forward and his lips locked onto hers, tongues sliding past each other as his hands slipped down around her waist, squeezing on her ass and then lifting her there, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around while they kissed deeply. She was dropped onto the center island like a sack of potatoes brought home from the store, like a piece of meat, and she loved it.

Was that what she really needed? To be completely taken over like that? And to have it done to her by a stranger?

She hadn’t the slightest idea who this guy was. Only that he’d rescued her.

That counted for something, right?

And maybe he did deserve a little reward for it. He at least deserved something sweet at the end of such a tumultuous night. They both needed it. Could he be her sweet, naughty dessert? Her secret, guilty pleasure?

He was already well on his way in satisfying his pleasure, his hand snaking up through her shirt against her bare skin, to her bra and slipping under one of the cups and around her breast. Her nipple hardened instantly in his hand. In that same hand she felt her body fold over and melt like putty, like something moldable and useful for his every desire.

He was nibbling on her ear and her hand was working his belt, loosening it and then running under his waistline, under his boxers to the heat of his bare crotch. The smooth skin of hardened cock burning against her hand as she fondled him in the dark kitchen, her mystery man, her hero.