Running Free by K Webster Page B

feet.
    “I never forgot about him though. And when I got word that Juanita died of a massive heart attack not long after I’d left, I contacted my old caseworker and asked if I could foster the boy. Unfortunately, an eighteen-year-old college kid isn’t foster parent material. But they assured me they’d placed him in a loving home. Somehow I doubted that.”
    “Did you ever hear from him again?” she asks, sadness eating her words.
    “Once I joined Chicago PD, I looked him up in our system. But, his records indicated he had a rap sheet a mile long by then and had run away a couple of years before. I figure wherever he is, he’s happier than he was during the brief period I knew him.”
    She nods. “I bet he is. I was happier once I ran away.”
    Dipping down, I place a kiss on her nose. “They weren’t nice to you?”
    Shaking her head, she presses her lips into a firm line and shakes her head. “No, Gun, they were not. That’s why I help these teens when I can. Sometimes, they’re better off with someone like me — someone who’s been there and done that — to help them understand there is more to life than being an unwanted houseguest. Otis and I always make them feel wanted. Then, we prepare them on how to succeed at life.”
    The sadness in her eyes is hidden by a thin veil of ferocity. I want to lift it and kiss it all away. This woman although incredibly gorgeous on the outside, also harbors one of the most beautiful souls. Nobody ever gets to see it but I intend on seeing every glowing inch.
    Slipping my hands into her hair, I kiss her softly at first. To tell her wordlessly all of the things that run ramped through my mind. Her sweet moan into my mouth is a thank you. But when her hands fist my shirt and she pulls me closer, deepening our kiss, the air around us crackles with the electricity we create. Each moan becomes a plea.
    My hand drops from her hair and I palm her breast with it. The nipple is hard and unyielding under my fingertips. I want it between my teeth. To see just how firm it is.
    Her body squirms with need under my touch and my cock presses into her.
    “Come on,” I growl as I yank my lips from hers.
    The naughty glint in her eyes fuels my desire to get her naked in my bed. Rather roughly, I grab her hand and drag her down the hallway. She chuckles, one of the throaty, sexy variety, and I flash her a wicked grin over my shoulder. Once in my room, I shut the door so Cutie Pie doesn’t try and join in on the festivities.
    “I want to see you,” I say, my voice thick with desire.
    She nods and begins stripping her sweater off. Her tits are stunning as hell in all their glorious bare beauty. No bra. No fucking bra.
    “Shit, Frankie. Did you come prepared or what?”
    Her smile is an evil one and my cock begs to be released. I follow suit and peel my own shirt from my body. Her neck reddens with heat at seeing my chest and I smirk at her.
    “There’s plenty more where that came from, hádanka.”
    When her eyebrows furrow together in confusion over the word, I wink at her and begin unbuttoning my jeans. Her eyes fall to where my dick bulges beneath the fabric. With eyes on her, I push them down off my hips and step out of them. She licks her lips and it’s nearly my undoing.
    “I need to see more of you, Frankie. Your tits are making my mouth water but that’s not what I crave to taste.”
    A tiny mewl whines out of her but she wastes no time shimmying out of her jeans. Once we’re both standing in nothing but our underwear, I let out a groan and stalk over to her. When I reach her, I seize her wrist and press her palm to my cock.
    “Do you feel what you do to me?” I hiss out a second before my mouth connects with hers.
    My hand slips down into her panties and my middle finger finds her hot, throbbing clit. Her body is jolting with each breath she takes. I grunt when her thumbs hook my boxers at the waistband and she pushes them down over my cock. The second she takes it in