The Cut(13)

"I think that's all." She glanced at Stake. "We'll come back here again, won't we?"

"Sure. After we settle the situation with Gordon and the cops, we'll  come back." He took the pictures from her and left the room.

Before joining him, she ducked back into her bedroom. She wasn't sure  why she felt sad at the thought of leaving the house. The air  conditioning didn't work, the roof leaked and she'd had more beatings  than hugs in the place, but it had been the only home she'd ever known.



Stake filled a galvanized bucket with ice and bottle of beer before  retrieving the marinated steaks from the refrigerator. "I thought we  could eat outside on the porch if that's okay?"

"Sure." Santana paused in the process of stirring her homemade potato salad.

He nodded toward the living room. "There's a table cloth in the linen closet."

"Okay. I'll find it, and be out in a minute."

Carrying the bucket and platter of meat, he returned to the back porch.  He'd spent the majority of the day, since returning from Santana's  house, hiding on the porch or in the garage. It was a cowardly thing to  do, and he knew it. But, damn, the constant need for restraint was  wearing on him.

The door opened, and he turned to watch Santana shake out the  tablecloth. Despite his best intentions, he couldn't take his eyes off  her tits. Goddamn, those things were big, beautiful and just begging for  his mouth.

She cleared her throat as she reached for the hem of her tight T-shirt. "I'll be happy to give you a closer look."

Before he could force out a token protest, she pulled her shirt over her  head. Wearing nothing but a pair of short denim shorts and a simple  white bra, her body left him speechless. He made a mental note to buy  her some girly underwear next time he rode into the city, not that she  needed it to look sexy, because fuck. He shook his head and rubbed the  back of his neck. Those tits deserved to be covered by the finest lace  money could buy.

"Tell me you're ready for this." He tried to keep the pleading out of  his voice, but knew he'd failed miserably. For days, he'd tried to put  his finger on what it was about Santana that drew him to her. She'd  needed him like no one ever had, and he'd be a liar if he said it didn't  make him feel special. No one had ever looked at him the way she did.  Sure, he was used to expressions of fear or lust on people's faces when  they saw him, but she looked at him like he genuinely mattered to her.  It was a heady feeling.

"I've been waiting for years for you to notice me," she confessed. She  reached behind her back and unfastened her bra but didn't shrug out of  it. Instead, she held her hands in front of her. "That being said, I  think I'm the one who should ask if you're ready for this."

He closed the distance between them and pulled her roughly against his  chest. He took her mouth in a savage kiss, thrusting his tongue deep as  he fought like hell against his body's needs. Christ. If he took her to  bed, would she end up resenting him for it?

She put enough space between them to drop her bra to the porch floor, leaving her bare tits unencumbered.

"Fuck, bug, what're you doing to me?" he asked as he reached to cup her  breasts. Perfect. She was so fucking perfect that her bountiful breasts  overflowed his hands. He'd been with other women with big tits, but  there was a huge difference between fake and the real thing, and  goddamned if Santana's weren't the real thing.

He blindly used his foot to hook the leg of one of the outdoor chairs  and pulled it close enough to sit. The new position put her puckered  nipples at the perfect height for his mouth. "It's sick how often I've  thought about these."

She buried her fingers in his hair as he swirled his tongue around the  dark pink, eraser-sized nipple. He flicked the pebbled nub with the tip  of his tongue before latching on. Oh, fuck. The taste of her skin was  everything he'd known it would be. He drew the nipple into his mouth and  sucked, his cock throbbing with each moan that erupted from her  delicate throat.         

     



 

Before he could stop himself, his hands went to the zipper of her  barely-there denim shorts. "Need to taste that sweet pussy," he panted,  releasing her nipple.

"Please." She pushed her shorts down before climbing on top of the table.

Still seated, he insinuated himself between her spread thighs, unable to  tear his gaze away from the prettiest pussy ever created. "Fuck, bug.  Goddamn. I want to crawl inside your cunt and eat you from the inside  out."

Stake nearly came in his jeans when she reached between her legs and spread the lips of her pussy. "Touch me," she begged.

It took one swipe of her clit with his tongue to know he was forever  hooked. Christ. He lapped up her sweet juices while he fumbled to get  his jeans open.

The crunching sound of tires on the gravel driveway felt like a bucket  of cold water being poured over him. He stood so fast, the chair fell to  the ground. "Get into the house," he ordered, helping Santana from the  table. "Don't come out unless I call for you."

"Who is it?" she asked, gathering her clothes.

"I don't know." He zipped his jeans but left his shirt lying on the  porch. Whoever the fuck had interrupted better have a damn good reason.  He walked Santana to the door and opened it for her before giving her a  deep kiss. "Go on. I'll get rid of them."

She nodded before ducking inside.

"Back here," he called, taking the burned meat off the grill.

"Evening," Jack said, rounding the side of the house. He was followed closely by the asshole Ranger Stake had met at Santana's.

"What's up?" Stake asked.

Jack shook his head in sympathy as he stared at the inedible steaks. "We came by to question Santana Rogers, again."

"Why?" Stake crossed his arms over his bare chest. No way in the fucking world did he want her to relive that night again.

"Conflicting stories on what happened the night of the stabbing," Jack replied.

"You mean the night of the attack," Stake corrected.

Jack nodded his head, acknowledging the difference.

"I know she's been through a rough ordeal, but I need Santana to answer his charges," Jack said.

"She's already told you exactly what happened," Stake reminded the Ranger.

"Yes, but it's not a cut and dry case, so I need all the help she can  give me. I thought maybe she'd remembered something else since that  night." Jack resettled his cowboy hat. "Would you please bring her out  here?"

"Come on out here, bug," he said without the need to raise his voice. He  knew she'd been listening on the other side of the door. "Upset her,  and we're gonna have a problem," he warned the two Rangers.

"Is that a threat?" Thatcher, the other Ranger took a step forward.

Jack held up his hand to silence his partner. "Just a few questions."

The backdoor opened, and Santana stepped out of the house, her clothes  in place, sans bra. Stake's gaze went straight to the tits he'd enjoyed  only moments earlier. "What kind of information do you need from me?"  Santana asked, moving to stand at Stake's side.

He wrapped his arm protectively around her waist and pulled her closer.

Jack sighed and looked out over the barren landscape. "Gordon claims  there was absolutely no attempted rape involved in the altercation  between the two of you. I'm hoping you can give me evidence otherwise."

"Like what?" Santana asked.

Stake felt her slight tremble and wanted to put an end to the  interrogation, but knew the law wasn't on his side, never had been.

"Pete Gordon claims he went over to your place to tell you that it was  against the law to burn garbage and you went crazy and stabbed him with a  stick. According to him, he had to hit you to get you to release your  hold on the weapon. That's when you ran into the house, and when he went  after you with plans to arrest you for assault, you stabbed him."

Stake stared at the Texas Ranger, trying to determine whether or not the man actually believed Gordon's story.

"That's bullshit!" Santana yelled. "I hadn't burned anything when he  attacked me. Are you honestly going to believe he was hiding in the  shadows of my backyard just waiting for me to set fire to something?"  She shook her head. "That right there should tell you he's a lying  sonofabitch." Jack cleared his throat and flipped through his notebook.  "Any distinguishing marks on the lower half of his body that you could  identify?"

"You mean other than that stubby cock of his that couldn't get hard?" she asked.         

     



 

"Yes, ma'am," Jack replied, clearly uneasy.

"No. I tried not to look at the thing." Santana stared up at Stake with  tears in her eyes. "He's going to get away with it, isn't he?"

Stake knew better, but he held his tongue. Instead, he bent and gave her  a deep kiss he hoped would comfort her. There were many ways to punish a  man, and eventually, Gordon would be sorry he didn't choose jail time  as his option.