Stranger Things Have Happened: An Adrien English Write Your Own Damn Story (The Adrien English Mysteries) (16 page)

Being rather reserved, you’re not all that keen on having a mere acquaintance shove one of his organs down your throat, but Riordan is surprisingly sophisticated in his approach. His tongue twines with yours, he nibbles your mouth, and sucks on
your
tongue. It’s unexpectedly hot, and if you hadn’t been turned on before, you would be now.

He shoves an aggressive knee between your legs and rests his forearms on either side of your head. You’re effectively trapped as he rubs himself against you like the big horny animal he is. And that’s okay by you. You moan into his mouth and grind your crotch against Riordan’s fierce bulge. In a minute you’re going to be whimpering for him to take you, but then that’s the idea of a place like this right?

Riordan reaches down, fastens his hand on your waistband and rips your jeans open. Yes.
Rips.
You hear denim tear and the metal rivet bounce off one of the padded benches. Okay, it’s just the threads holding the button, but still. You do whimper at that display of power, arching into his bigger, stronger body. It’s crazy and primal, but you need him to fuck you. Need it now…

So it is with something like horror that you hear a fire alarm ringing on the other side of the wall.

Riordan goes rigid — the other kind of rigid — and the small sound of frustration he makes isn’t far from your own earlier noises. His mouth parts from yours, and you sag against the door. He is breathing equally hard.

You say, “I don’t…”

“Fucking believe it,” he finishes.

You gaze at each other in disbelief, waiting for the alarm to stop, but it doesn’t stop. In fact, you can now hear people filling the hallway outside of the room, moving toward the back entrance of the building.

You start to laugh. After a frowning moment, Riordan’s face changes and he starts to laugh as well. He throws you your shirt and you pull it on. You have to hold your jeans closed as he opens the door.

Riordan leads the way down the hall and out the back of the building. The parking lot is crowded with people in various states of disrobe, and though there is no sign of smoke, you can hear sirens in the distance.

So can Riordan. He says, “Did you want to get out of here?”

Yes. You want it so much you don’t trust your voice.

You follow Riordan to his home in Glendale. It’s a nice little house on a quiet residential street. Little do the neighbors know what that nice police officer next door gets up to.

He throws his dog in the backyard and you find yourself slammed down on the kitchen table, jeans around your ankles, being thoroughly fucked.

It’s fast and furious and all you can do is hang onto the table and ride out those strong, teeth-jarring thrusts. Your own stiff cock bobs painfully against the rounded edge of the table. Your gaze is fastened on a stack of unopened mail. There’s an Auto Club magazine on top and you can’t seem to look away from the scene of palm trees wrapped in Christmas lights.

“Oh yeah,” Riordan mutters. “You’re a born bottom, baby. You’re made for this.”

Not really. Not usually. But tonight, yeah. Something strange is happening here tonight and all you can do is grip the sides of the table and beg for more. “God. Oh God. Please…Harder…”

The feel of that thick, hot shaft moving inside you. A pass over your prostate sends a charge of electricity crackling up your spine and short circuits your brain. Christmas lights scintillate behind your eyelids. You’re going to be drooling on the wooden table top in a second.

The table scoots a few inches forward as Riordan continues to pound your ass.
Oh yeah.
Right there…

“Tell me what you want?” Riordan breathlessly demands, and you obediently spill out an inarticulate jumble of pleading and gratitude for what he’s doing to you — and what he’s going to do to you any second.

And there it is. The thrill at the base of your cock, the tingle in your belly. Your balls pull up tight. Riordan groans, his hips still, and he empties into you.

Did you really just engage in unprotected sex with Detective Riordan on his kitchen table?

Yeah, you did, and far from turning you off, you start to come yourself. Distantly you wonder whether you’re going to have to eat breakfast at that table sometime in the future…

You do end up having breakfast at that same table. Riordan invites you to stay the night, which you do. It’s surprisingly nice being with him even when you’re not having sex. In the morning, he fucks you again — in bed this time — and afterwards fixes you scrambled eggs and toast.

You’re eating breakfast when his girlfriend shows up unannounced. It is not a pleasant scene, but afterwards, Riordan seems both depressed and relieved. He says he would like to see you again, and you say it can probably be arranged.

You drive home to Pasadena and discover Cloak and Dagger books has burnt to the ground. The arson inspector is on the scene and he informs you the suspected arsonist perished in the flames.

You can’t help wishing Detective Riordan had not ruined your only surviving pair of jeans.

The End

P
lease tell me you’re not going to try and outrun a car?

Okay. You take off running.

You’re actually pretty fast on your feet, and your strategy catches Bruce by surprise, so you get a few yards safe distance before he slams down on the accelerator and speeds after you.

You know before you reach the Bronco that you won’t be able to get the door open in time, so you veer right, cross the sidewalk, and jump over the nearest white picket fence, sprinting for the front porch of a nearby house.

As you peel off, you see a figure come racing out of the bushes on the left side of the street. Riordan opens fire on Bruce.

Bruce loses control of his car and crashes into your Bronco. The airbags in both cars deploy.

Riordan, gun trained on Bruce’s motionless form, warily approaches the crashed vehicle. He reaches inside. After a moment he steps back, looks at you, and shakes his head.

Poor crazy Bruce.

Detective Riordan gets a medal for saving your life, and you eventually become friends. He’s actually not such a bad guy when you get to know him. He even invites you to his wedding to police woman Kate Keegan. It’s a lovely wedding. You bring Mel, who’s in town visiting his parents.

The End

“W
hat are you doing here?” Bruce calls to you. “I went to your place.”

“I-I thought we decided to meet here,” you call back.

“No. I said I would come to you.”

“I was too jumpy to wait. I’m…uh…I’m afraid I’m being watched.”

“By the police?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Baby, you’re a natural at this!

“What did you park down here for?” You can hear the frown in Bruce’s voice.

“I’m not thinking clearly,” you answer honestly. “I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

Of you.
You’re not sure you can make it across the street, unlock the Bronco and get in before he overtakes you. You could start yelling for Riordan, but would he hear you this far down the block?

Anyway, the bottom line is you need proof. That’s why you came here in the first place.

You shiver and say, “Are we going to stand out here talking all night?”

Bruce reaches across and unlocks the door. “Get in.”

__________

If you choose to run for your car, click here

If you choose to get in the car with Bruce, click here

D
idn’t you just try this?

You sprint for your car.

Behind you, Bruce guns the motor and screeches after you.

Your feet pound the pavement and you swerve, running for the sidewalk lined with trees, but you’re crazy if you think you can outrun a car.

Then again, you probably
are
crazy or you wouldn’t have gotten yourself in this jam. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to Christopher Holmes, if you’ll notice.

You feel the heat from the engine against your back, and you zig left and sharply reverse, a move you perfected playing tennis many years ago.

Bruce hauls on the steering wheel and the car skids, careening across the residential street. Lights are going on in the houses, and you see a figure race out of the shadows. The street lamps turn his hair silver, gleam on the gun he’s aiming at the car skidding toward him.

He fires. Three shots. The sound is shockingly loud as the echo seems to bounce off the tidy houses and neat fences.

Two bullets blast the windshield of Bruce’s car, but the car hurtles on. The third bullet slams into the engine block. Riordan leaps away, though the car bumper delivers him a glancing blow. He tumbles onto the grass. The car plows into one of the trees, hood crumpling accordion-style. You see the airbag deploy like a mushroom cloud. The car horn is blaring deafeningly. Leaves and twigs drift down in a green shower, gilded by lamplight.

You run past the car to Riordan. He’s lying face down and your heart stops.

“Riordan? Detective?”

He lifts his head and swears faintly. You drop down beside him. “Don’t try to move.”

“Where’s Landis?” he asks. You can just make the words out over the bray of the horn.

You look at the car. Steam rises from under the hood. The deployed air bag has already wilted away, but you can’t see Bruce behind the cobweb of broken glass. There’s no motion from inside the car.

All up and down the street, doors are opening and people are cautiously stepping outside.

“Call 911,” you yell. To Riordan, you say, “I don’t think he’s moving.”

“Make. Sure.”

You jump up and go over to the car. Bruce is slumped over on his side. He’s clearly dead, and you turn away shuddering.

Poor crazy bastard.

You go sit with Riordan who, despite his efforts to remain stoic, is clearly in a lot of pain.

“Just hang on,” you tell Riordan. “You’re going to be okay.” You have no idea whether that’s true or not. You take his cold hand in yours because if it was you in his place — and it nearly was — you’d like to know you weren’t alone. “Thank you,” you tell him.

He squeezes your hand weakly.

More cops arrive, and then the ambulance finally shows up. Riordan gets hauled off to the hospital. You try calling a few times, and finally you’re told that he’s in stable condition and can even have visitors.

You buy a fruit basket and head over to the hospital. But when you finally track down Riordan’s room, he’s already got a visitor. A pretty red-haired woman in a police uniform. Riordan is sitting up in bed and he looks pretty healthy despite having a leg in traction. He seems in pretty good spirits, laughing at something the woman is saying.

You try to duck out without being seen, but no such luck. The police woman spots you and before you can say Awkward Situation, you’ve been ushered into the room, still clutching your fruit basket. After the first startled look of recognition, Riordan seems unable to meet your eyes.

The police woman introduces herself as Kate Keegan, Riordan’s fiancée. You hand her the fruit basket as a consolation prize, thank Riordan again for saving your life, and bid them both farewell.

You stop off on your way home to stock up on Tab and Ramen soup.

Maybe you should get a cat. They say every bookstore needs a cat.

The End

Y
ou get in the car with Bruce. He drives you up the street and parks in the garage. You get out and go inside the house.

What choice do you have? You don’t know if Riordan sees what’s happening or not. What will he do? What does he expect you to do?

What you do is undress and go to bed with Bruce. You try to claim that your heart is bothering you, but he’s not in a sympathetic mood. He gives you wine and then fucks you. In a weird way that seems fair to you, given that you’re fucking him over.

Of course, the difference is Bruce
is
a homicidal nut job and you’re just running out of options.

You keep reminding yourself that it’s just sex. Harsh, unhappy sex, but it won’t kill you. Bruce gulps hotly in your ear, he’s leaving bruises either by accident or intent, and all the while you’re painfully conscious that Riordan may be outside the window watching or listening. Embarrassing though that would be, it would also be a comfort. You have never felt lonelier in your life than lying beneath Bruce.

Finally, Bruce falls asleep on top of you. Eventually, you get the nerve up to move. You start for the door, and you spot Riordan down the hall. He’s holding a very large gun and he does
not
seem happy to see you. He gestures for you to get the hell out.

You want to.

You want nothing more than that.

But Bruce is already sitting up, speaking to you. “What are you looking for? Come back to bed.”

You say, “It’s late. I should go.” Which is perfectly true.

“Come back to bed, Adrien.”

__________

If you choose to run for it, click here

If you choose to get back in bed with Bruce, click here

C
ongratulations! Any sane, sensible person would run for it.

You throw a quick look back at Bruce. Even in the dark he can read your intention. He lunges off the bed. He’s coming for you.

Shit! He’s fast.

You twist away from him and sprint down the hall toward Riordan, your heart thundering in your ears like a herd of buffalo stampeding across the Plains. Or maybe that pounding is the sound of Bruce’s feet as he comes up behind you again.

Jesus, this is the longest hallway ever built. It should be in the Guinness Book of Records.

“Drop,”
Riordan yells.

At least that’s what you hope he said. Maybe what he said was, “Drop it!”

But you’re going with your instinct, and that is to get out of the line of fire. As you dive for the floor, you see the muzzle flash, feel the singe as a warm blast parts your hair, and then you slam down on the dusty floor.