The Taken - ( Closed )

This thread is closed for MadMissJ and myself. Elements of the story will borrow heavily from both modern and past fictional tales. Comments are welcome via PM but it is asked of any reader to please refrain from posting on our thread.


They'd poured out of town. The tourists. People, mostly older, with their bear rifles and binoculars that had driven the hard ride from Fairbanks to see one of the last pristine wildernesses in all of North America. They'd left, taking with them their tremendous noise and impatience and the vital money that gave Kayaska's residences and businesses the extra little jolt necessary to carry them through the off season. It'd started creeping toward that time a week ago, an hour here or there lost to darkness in both the morning and night. Now, in October, the darkness was steadily taking hold both day and night and the visitors were filing out. Kayaska, whose population ten days ago would have been slightly over a thousand, suddenly found its population once again drop swiftly below four-hundred.

Jack was happy to see the season go. The amount of tourists in the area had always come with a greater potential for trouble. The drinking and the hunters had a terrible potential of mixing poorly. He was, as his father had been before him, the only State Trooper assigned to Kayaska. The town was actually set within the borders of Denali State Park. The massive wildlife preserve home to thick arctic forest and a large population of bears, both Kodiak and Black, as well as the moose, elk, and caribou that attracted outsiders to flock here.

This year's season had been the first in three years that he'd had to take someone in. A fight had broken out at Dee's when a pair of hunters began arguing politics over a few beers too many. Election years were the hardest, always. It was one of many small rules his father had taught him in their time together. The other was if you could help it you didn't formally arrest anyone. The truth of arresting someone to Jack Sullivan was weighted in the realization that it could destroy a man's life, that the benefits to it were seldom as extensive as the drawbacks.

Almost every man or woman that he'd handled in Kayaska that'd broken the law were good people making bad decisions, seldom the kind that needed any kind of intervention. His methods would have gotten him canned quick anywhere else, most likely, but in Kayaska it was as much an institution as his family was. The Sullivans had served as the town's law for generations.

They didn't have the hard crime that much of Alaska struggled with, not out here. Out here the cold and dark chased most of the criminals farther south to Fairbanks and Anchorage.

He'd taken the men in and let them sleep it off, cutting them loose. Regular sweethearts once they realized he was inexplicably letting them off. Unable, it seemed, to comprehend the fact that there'd be no need for expensive lawyers or days lost from work. More than anything, so far as he could tell, they weren't going to be his community's problem anymore. And that was really what his job was about, so far as he could tell.

-----------------------------------------------

The sky above was dark and clear, an soft black blanket broken only by the alabaster streaks of stars dotting it. At times, as he drove down the old roads cutting around Kayaska, he'd thought they were moving. But shooting stars were rare, even in Alaska's sky, and he'd never stopped. It was after four, an hour left before he went home for the day. The road was flanked in the massive conifer trees of Denali National Forest, massive pale pines that had yet to frost over.

The snow would come. That he knew. How long until it did, though, was hard to tell.

He saw the old man weaving at the side of the road almost immediately, wearing that big ugly orange jacket he'd given him. It was a Coleman, arctic special. The old man had loved it for its warmth. His daughter had loved it because it lit him up like a neon sign in the dark and would keep him from getting killed at night. Edward was a drunk, a bad one. When he went into a bottle he went for weeks sometimes, vodka for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The man's problem was so extensive that several therapists had condemned him, given up on him before shipping off.

But Jack knew he was harmless. The man was tragic in that he was as sweet as candy and vodka made him even more so. There was none of the ups and downs that took others for Edward. Instead, when he was sauced, the Old Man had the unfortunate habit of walking the roads at night. He never allowed himself to be around anyone when he got real bad. Instead, for Edward, there was God in a bottle and a walk along Kayaska's dark roads.

Jack threw his lights on, letting the blue and red flashes light the roadside as he pulled over ahead of the man. Edward stumbled some, but he wasn't startled. Folks in Kayaska didn't get nervous when he hit his lights. Instead, the old man waved, the puffy sleeves of his coat crinkling as he swung his hand wildly.

"Hello, Jack!" The man called, his voice slurring thickly.

Jack got out of the Tahoe and let it close behind him, walking towards the old man with his hand outstretched. Edward tried to take it twice before he succeeded, shaking it sloppily.

"Hey, Ed. It's damned cold tonight for a walk, isn't it?"

"Not with this coat, Jack. You got'en me the finest. 'Sides, only taking a short one." The man said, his eyes were deeply red. Jack could see, even in the intermittent light of his flashers, the outline of the fifth in the breast pocket of Ed's coat.

"Almost the end of my shift, Ed. Home is in the same direction you're headed. Mind keeping me company for a bit? I bet your daughter's home by now."

"Ayup." He paused and touched his nose. Not to itch it, just put the tip of his index finger to the tip of his nose. It was a gesture that Jack had only seen Ed do when he was happy about something. "Since the tourists left she's home at four every day, makes me dinner. I'm late but it'll be there. She's a good girl. Pretty, too."

Jack nodded, but let his smile go. Edward's daughter wasn't just pretty, she was beautiful. The kind of beauty that had no place out in Alaska. The kind of beauty that men lost themselves to. But Edward, ever since Jack had bought him that coat, had been trying desperately to get the pair together.

Jack wouldn't have minded, not at all, but since she'd come home from Med School to take up the town's only medical practice she'd hardly looked at him.

"Good, then I bet it'll be warm if we get there soon enough." He said.

"You should stay, she's one hell of a cook and always makes extra." Ed smiled sloppily.

"Maybe, Ed. Come on."

Fifteen minutes later they were walking to the door together, Jack lingering faintly behind as Edward ascended the porch.

This hadn’t been the life she’d pictured when she’d been a child. She’d had big dreams as a young girl, almost all of them included a little house with white picket fencing (which was completely useless out here to keep animals away, more as likely it would be hit in the winter by a driver that wasn’t paying enough attention and would be hell to fix), A husband that adored her, understood her love of the wilds of Alaska, understood that he would always come second to her career, but didn’t mind since being a doctor was what she was deep inside. There were always a few kids and husky dogs rambling around in her little day dreams, little blond babies, chubby cheeked boys and little girls missing their front teeth.

The top of her list had always been her career. She’d know it from the time she’d turned ten. It was one of decisions that had shaped her life in an instant, a tragedy that left such a deep mark; it might as well still be an open wound. When she was small Beth had little dreams of being a ballet dancer, there was a woman just outside of town that would trade lessons in the summers for her father fixing things around her house, or her mother helping with odd household things that needed to be done. Beth was as dedicated as her father and mother, had even loved the drives to Ms. McGann’s home, the anticipation of it was part of the pleasure of dance.

It was on one of these excursions that Beth would decide her route in life. It was late in October, the nights stretching to eat up their daylight, leaving a few folks with touches of crazy loneliness that only hitting the bottle would fix. They never saw that driver turn the corner, and he’d been too deep into his cups to notice that there was a little girl and her mother ambling up the long dirt road in an almost ancient station wagon, her mother only had a spare moment of yelling before everything had gone black.

Beth didn’t remember being found by Jack Sullivan’s father, or when the volunteer fire department finally made their way to cut her mother out of their car that was wrapped around a tall spruce. She’d hazily heard her mother’s screams, and felt Officer Sullivan cover her ears, telling her that it would be okay, she would be alright, her leg was broken.

It wasn’t until the funeral that it really sunk in what had happened. She’d sat silently, her father weeping at her side; even then, she’d remembered that whiskey on his breath….said it helped him cope. Officer Sullivan had been on the scene in five minutes of the crash, Barry Whitman the forest ranger and Frank Bloomberg their butcher, playing fire department had cut her mother out of their old car within fifteen.

But it would take another three hours before medical help arrived. In an hour and a half her mother stopped screaming, stopped calling for her. By the time even a part time nurse had made her way north, it had been too late.

---------------

Beth sat curled in her chair; her intention had been to read a book. But the day’s events caught up with the young doctor. A couple of the Mitchell boys had thought it would be funny to play in their barn loft, Beth had spent a good part of her morning scolding them and settling an ankle and a leg with promises of seeing them tomorrow for their casts. Strict orders to keep off their respective injuries, and not to swing from the loft anymore. Beth had a sneaking suspicion that only one of those directives would be followed. A small smile crept up her lips as she pulled the thick woven blanket up over her shoulders, opening her eyes finally to look outside toward their front lawn.

Her father had been in one of his binges for the last couple of days; she wasn’t surprised he got like this every October…well…every other week but especially around this time of year. Hey sharp green eyes watched as that very familiar Tahoe with the lights mercifully off, traveled slowly up their driveway and toward the house. Inside her hound pup that her father had bought her was clambering on her lap to see out the window, for some reason that silly blue tick coonhound, definitely not made for their Alaskan wilderness loved their town sheriff. Beth smiled and picked up the wiggling little thing and tucked him safely under one arm and under the blanket she had wrapped around her, before walking to the door and slipping on her warm ugg slippers. They would do for the moment, October was crisp but not killing, and with her father’s bright orange figure walking up, it was best to meet them both at the door.

The blond stepped out onto the porch of her father’s house, a sad sort of smile on her face as her Dad walked up with a laugh, his finger on the side of his red nose, his face light up in a way that only the cold and whiskey could. Jack hung back, as Ed stumbled up the porch both the Doctor and the Sheriff keeping a close eye on the older man. The wiggling lump of puppy keeping her from reaching out toward her father, until he missed the last step.

“Oh!” Beth reached for him, the coonhound making his predicable escape to scramble across the yard to Jack as Beth steadied Ed. Like a mother hen she kept her eye on her father as he walked forward into the house, mumbling something about keeping Jack waiting, and since Jack didn’t seem to be moving, and her own puppy betraying its master was whining at the feet of the man. Beth had no choice but to wrap the blanket tighter around her and bridge the gap of her yard that stood between them.

“I’m sorry Sheriff; I appreciate you picking up Dad again.” She offered him a smile, though it didn’t meet her eyes. She could have kicked herself for the bright spots of embarrassment that tinged her cheeks. Beth reached up from beneath her covering to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before reaching for the puppy, tucking him back into her arms.

“Look…ahh…I don’t know if you are getting off soon, but I did make dinner, I’m sure Dad told you.” Her father had been trying to get her to invite Jack out for a while; he had a hard time listening to the word no when he was soggy around the edges.

Beth let her eyes roam behind him to his truck just making sure he wasn’t carting anyone else around, before she extended a long over due invitation.

“I know that things are slowing down a little, for both of us now, so, if you want to join us for dinner…” Her words trailed off.

“Or not, I’m sure you have paperwork, I know I do.” She gave a small half laugh and turned to head back inside. Beth could have kicked herself, for being so wishy washy. That wasn’t her at all. Beth was a woman who knew what she wanted and in general went after it. But for the life of her, whenever she got around Jack, she was just too flustered to be anything but mildly dismissive and air headed.

She paused and took a small breath, looking back over her shoulder as she neared the porch again.

“Come in, Jack. I mean it, dinner it practically on the table. And you have to eat sometime right?”

In a town like Kayaska every family was connected. The winters, hard on everyone, had a tendency of bringing all the folks that stayed through the cold, snow, and dark together in a way the summers couldn't have. People here looked out for each other. They had to. A winter of darkness brought more than a harsh cold and isolation. It brought a melancholy, a deep one. It brought days of memories and hard thoughts that people fought away most times. The community, the people, all knew it. It seemed the moment one of them was caught slipping into a funk the others lifted them up.

Beth had always been the town's darling, though she'd never let you know it if you spoke to her. The tow-headed little girl that'd suffered the night her mother was killed had grown up under the watchful hands and eyes of every family in Kayaska. Those that didn't know her would have assumed it was charity. Those that did knew it was her ability to melt a heart and lift people up. Even as a kid she'd been kind almost to fault, sweet as ever and beautiful beyond belief. Jack had crushed on her bad for the better part of his young life.

The day she graduated from Med School was a town holiday. It was a point of pride for every one of them that'd known her. The only time the enthusiasm had been matched was when she decided to return home and take up the office that the Old Doctor had vacated. Some had felt sure she'd go off to make it somewhere in the Main States. Jack had known otherwise, or in subtle secret he'd hoped.

He watched her with her father, saw the puppy's escape before it even happened. The animal seemed to sense opportunity and seized it immediately, racing across the lawn in a symphony of uncoordinated movements. All ears and feet, Jack scooped it up, palming its face while its tongue curled licks against the rough skin at the heel of his hand.

All the distractions suited him just fine, just fine indeed. The dark would better mask the way his eyes held on her. The way she moved, the way her fingers curled at the blanket on her shoulders. These were details that stuck out like the bit of gold hair from behind her ear. The urge to tuck it back into place was a powerful one and Jack stilled it by stroking his hand along the dog's small head again.

She'd asked him to dinner and he'd almost answered, only she'd not stopped talking. To Jack it was embarrassment, not anxiousness. He looked back to the dog in his hands, squirming already with its tail rapidly turning side to side.

"Dinner would be nice, Beth, but..." He trailed off a moment.

But what? Dinner with the most beautiful woman in town would be nice but what? Jack Sullivan had never been a coward. But dinner with Beth and her old man was blurring a line he'd been told he couldn't blur. Not like this. Jack reached for an answer and found it.

"I have to go pick up Roland from Stacey's. Could I take you out for dessert after?"

As they stood together it was hard not to drift back to the old days (older than she’d like to admit). She’d been a little younger than Jack, a sophomore when he’d been a senior. In a town that steadily held less than four hundred people in the winter months, maybe a few more people back then, there weren’t too many kids their age to run around with. It was just luck that she and Jack had always been friendly, or that she’d dated his best friend. She remembered all three of them piling into Jack’s father’s car and just driving. Sometimes Jack would bring along another girl, another someone that he’d been dating. But Beth had always enjoyed their threesome, close knit and comfortable. Until she’d gone away for college, that was.

The University of Alaska in Juneau had put them on uneven footing, she’d recognized it when she’d come home that first summer. It was the shy glances from Beth, freshman in college, while Jack was well on his way to a career. She’d been part of their volunteer fire department, also working as a waitress for a little spending cash when she got back to school. It had been no secret she was squirreling away money, Ed Ballentine was a good man, and a hard worker when he wasn’t hitting the bottle. But a saver he was not, and Beth had bills to pay that her loans wouldn’t cover. She swore the whole town went to the diner that summer.

Little thoughts like that always snapped her back to reality. The reality being that the Sheriff was turning down the offer of dinner and trying to find a tactful way to get out of it. Beth couldn’t help but see the boy she’d looked up to all through school; he’d always had such a staunch sense of purpose. She’d admired that, still did.

It didn’t mean that his rejection hadn’t stung a bit. But Beth shook her head at his offer of dessert; the wiggling four pounds of pup getting restless and howling a little, like coonhounds were prone to do. It was just luck that his little noises scared the owls in the area from swooping down on him and carrying him off. His noises came from deep within his chest making the hound sound bigger than he was.

“Sorry, Jack. I can’t leave Dad. Not like this.” Wasn’t that the truth? Why else would she be here? She was passed an age where living with her father was vital, she also made enough money to get her own place, maybe one with that all important picket fence.

She did offer an alternative to his alternative.

“How about tomorrow morning? I have to go to the clinic early to set up for casting, I’ll bring breakfast, you bring the coffee? We’ll catch up, it’s been a while.” The only way that this could be blissfully over was for the kindly State Trooper to pull that gun he had on his hip and shoot her, right here, right now. Or say yes.

She wanted to shift her weight from foot to foot, like a guilty child as her eyes held his. Jack wasn’t just a childhood friend, or a man that her father constantly tried to push in her direction. If she was completely honest with herself, which only happened late at night, long after any short little conversations between the two, she could admit that he was handsome. And admit more so, that she had wondered, several times since they’d been of the age where they drove around aimlessly to get out of town, what it would be like to kiss Jack Sullivan. That thought alone brought one final smile to her lips, something brightened in her green eyes and she reached for him, her hand still wrapped up in her blanket went to rest on his arm, welcoming Jack toward the soft folds of the fleecy warmth with Beth and her puppy. She looked up at him, no trace of the freckles she’d had in her youth on her pale skin, just long sooty lashes that swept upward with her plea.

“Jack, please? It would mean a lot to me.”

The touch ran hot against the cold. Night seemed to rush the drop in temperature along and Jack was aware his breath was misting a thick, pale cloud between them. She'd a small and delicate hand, slender fingers spreading along his forearm through the fleece jacket to trace the shape of his arm beneath it. The urge to take the opening of that blanket as an invitation and curve an arm about her hips was ferocious. The quiet lingered and he found that he'd finally caught her eyes with his own, holding them within a stare that betrayed his otherwise stoic nature.

She was too beautiful to turn away from. He'd always been a quiet one with girls. Never shy, just patient. It'd been a casual approach to women that'd marked the better part of his young life and aside from the sporadic girls he messed around with Jack had avoided serious relationships and involvements. Women hadn't ever commanded actions from him or demanded spontaneity.

But he felt the want for it now when she touched him. Even the cold didn't chase the rush away.

If there was anyone in town that Jack'd break rules for it was her and he found himself answering without any real hesitation or thought.

"I'd like that, Beth. Tomorrow is my last day on before my vacation. If I don't bore you to tears during breakfast maybe I can get you dessert soon, too."

The first thing out of his mouth should have been his last, but Jack rambled on. Talking wasn't known as one of his stronger points and he tried to do as little of it as possible. The only relief was that small smile on her face had only gotten bigger, brightening the soft lines of it. Even in the dim light she was damned pretty. And the squirming puppy in her arms fit just right. She'd a great deal of sweetness, too.

Reaching out, Jack let his hand wander into the warmth of her fleece. Strong fingers passed over the puppy as it wriggled against her, pacifying it briefly with a firm, affectionate caress. Almost at once it began squirming again, trying to lick his wrist. He pulled his hand back.

It was purely accidental but that didn't stop the thrill from rushing through him. Those calloused digits had passed against her breast on their way back to his side.

The shock of it was enough to break the tension, the thick blanket of it that'd settled on the pair. Jack's prick had reacted immediately, hardening down the length of his grey slacks until the point of discomfort. He'd always gotten hard easily, ever since he was just a kid. But he knew part of the desire's intensity came from how long it'd been since he'd had a woman.

He was retreating steadily, not letting the darker intensity of his desire betray itself.

"What time should I see you at the clinic?" He asked. He hadn't noticed her cheeks were so red a moment ago. "After you tell me you better get inside. It's getting cold."

She blushed. One of those hot, surprising sorts of things. Beth could have cursed herself, for having such an immediate reaction to his accidental touch. The night and the cold were fast falling on them, and Jack was sliding back toward his car after his agreement. Beth cleared her throat to speak; its sudden hoarseness was a ridiculous side effect of his nearness.

“Then I’ll see you at 5:30?” It was early, but her days were too often early. It helped to have her off work by four, barring any emergencies. She’d have the day, dark though it was, to work with.

She raised her hand up to wave before turning her back on the Sheriff. Snuggling that stupid pup that had caused such a commotion in her, but perhaps it wasn’t worth punishing him? After all, Beth hadn’t gotten that close to Jack since she’d been a girl; the Sheriff didn’t often have a cause to come stand with her, and most certainly hadn’t gotten near any parts that would have her blushing so furiously.

Beth had to suppress a laugh as she walked into the house and dropped the dog, rushing to that big window where her chair was, sneaking a look out of it to watch Jack’s SUV pull away. For a few more minutes she just looked out into the inky blackness, that smile she’d given him still pasted on her face, her fingers curling around the thick curtains.

It wasn’t until her father started calling for her that she finally let them down and turned back to real life, and away from fantasies.

----------------------

After a restless night, Beth was bright and early for work, deciding at about four am, that there was no use in trying to go back to sleep, she would get up and head into town. The drive was uneventful in her pickup. The back of which was covered, the whole bed converted into more of an ambulance structure, with a gurney stretching along its back end, along with all sorts of supplies. In the bed of the truck was Beth, dressed warmly in multiple layers, her hound pup sleeping in the passenger seat, with a sweater and booties on. She’d felt badly for Turner, naked practically, with that black and white dotted fur. He was in training currently, a search and rescue animal. It helped to have him socialized with the town, so he went with her everywhere.

Beth walked inside her small clinic, flicking on the lights first before turning up the heat. The area was barely the size of any regular emergency room in Fairbanks or Juneau. But it suited her. Painted a light blue, with plush leather furniture that was buttery yellow, her reception desk was white with a white lamp, artwork from a few of the kids in town were displayed on a corkboard in her hallway. Thanks to Ramona Jinks, who she’d hired just a few months ago to be a secretary for her.

Beth perused her appointments, and turned on her radio. Sometimes that was the only way someone could reach her if they were driving into Denali, cell reception out here was iffy at best, CB’s were still the rage.

Turner took a quick trot around her clinic, nose to the ground, sniffing out anything that had gone on while he’d been otherwise occupied at his home, Beth followed after him, looking into both of her exam room and operating room and switching on the overhead florissants.

“Looks good, Pup.” Beth leaned down, chatting to her dog. Patting the silly thing on the head as it wagged its tail. She pulled on her white coat, over the sweater and jeans, keeping her boots on until it started to warm up inside a little bit, before she changed into more comfortable flats for work.

She took down files and laid them on the top of the reception desk, looking over a few of them with interest, before abandoning them for the insulated bag she’d brought with her this morning. Usually she would have just brought something simple, oatmeal or a bagel to start her day. But today was special…today she’d have company.

Beth pulled forth a few homemade muffins and jelly, along with an assortment of little quiches. Maybe she shouldn’t have stayed up last night preparing them, but it had helped keep her mind off of the sheriff’s hands. She was lost in thought once again, taking out a couple of plates, eating utensils and napkins that she’d missed her door opening.

What she didn’t miss was Turner galumphing toward the door with a happy yip.

“Jack.” She turned, not really knowing what to do with her hands, so she made a show of buttoning one of the buttons on her long white coat.

“I didn’t know if you were going to make it…getting ready for your vacation and all.”

It'd started just as he'd stepped into the clinic with Roland at his side. Heavy flakes of it from thick white clouds hanging low in the sky. Snow. And three weeks early this year, at least. But when winter came in Kayaska it came quickly and full on. Whether or not the town was ready it was coming. It looked like he wouldn't get a full vacation again.

Jack had never gotten an entire week away. Infact, the unlucky streak of spoiled vacations dated to his grandfather. Once a week, after tourist season, the Sullivan men had all made valiant efforts year after year to take some time in Denali and make a hunt. And, since the first time his grandfather had been dragged back, they were inevitably pulled back to town by some problem or another.

It was too dangerous to get thick into Denali when the snow was coming. The bears and moose could kill a man easily, sure. But most of the unfortunate 25 or 30 souls that lost their lives in America's largest wildlife park lost it to the cold. Every year there were a few hobby hikers who made the mistake of relying on GPS in the lowlands. They learned, far too quickly, that the cold sapped batteries quick and left them on their own. Maps, usually reliable, quickly confused those new to Denali because the snow and ice hid the topography. One night's wind or rain could change the face of a hillside so that in the morning a man felt liked he'd moved thirty miles.

By the time most men learned the dangers of the land they were slipping into the deep sleep of hypothermia.

Denali was damned dangerous in the summer. When the snows came it was downright foolish. It wasn't that the Sullivan men hadn't done it before. They had. But when you lived in Alaska you respected her enough to know that tempting her once was many times too many.

"You and I both know, Beth, that my vacations usually last long enough for me to get thirty miles into the park and unload my gear before I'm on my way back."

The puppy was a sociable thing, but Jack had never had a shot at greeting it. Roland, his good old boy, had shed five years and was quick to romp with the tiny coon hound many times his junior.

"And I wouldn't have missed it." He said. Watching the nine year old Husky rip around the clinic acting half his age. He was smiling when he took a seat, pale eyes tracking over the muffins she'd set up. "You know, Beth, if the boys in school saw us here I'd end up fighting under the flag pole. What made you come back to us?"

This was nice. It was an easy sort of relation between the two, there was something resembling familiarity, the way she’d set out breakfast in her smart, brightly lit office. The way Roland and Turner played together on the linoleum floor, making little growling noises and soft barks, their respective tails swishing against the furniture or the walls, making sure that their owners never experienced even a moment of silence.

She’d curled herself onto the smooth leather of the couch, tucking her feet up under her, liking the snow falling against the darkness outside and over her windowsill like a piece of fine art outside. It fit, this little scene. Jack cracking a joke about his vacation the two of them knew he wouldn’t really be taking now, the breakfast, the conversation.

Beth smiled and picked up a muffin taking a little nibble of it with a laugh.

“What do you mean Sheriff? If they saw you? You know our little meeting is bound to be town news by the end of the day. I think you’ll be at that flagpole by lunch time.” Beth was comfortable here, it showed in her easy body language, the way she lounged but leaned toward him, her elbow resting against the back of the couch. Her voice wasn’t as tight or uncomfortable in her office; she didn’t have to look after her well meaning father now.

“But I don’t think the boys at school would have cared, even back then.” She mused.

“I’m not the sort of woman that men fight over.” And she meant it, there was no sense of false modesty that rang in her voice, it was a simple statement.

She put the muffin she’d been eating down and rested her head in the crook of her elbow, green eyes still on the lawman, her blond hair shining under the harsh lights. He’d asked her something that she was milling over in her head. People had asked that a few times since her recent return, the word on everyone’s lips was ‘why’.

Young people in Alaska often flew as far and as fast as their dreams would take them. It was small towns like their own that suffered. Jack and Beth had known a few people that had left, more had stayed, some bitterly some with no other options. No one ever came back once they left.

Except Beth.

“I like it here.” It was the first thing she could think of. What had made her come back? She could think of a thousand reasons, some small, some so big that it was hard to put it into words.

“I grew up here, I know everything, I know everyone…When I was in Juneau, it seemed like I could walk by thousand people a day and never see them again.” Beth took her time remembering back to her college days, it seemed like so long ago now, but back then, it had seemed torturous.

“You know when you are a child and you think about what it will be like when you grow up? I just never saw myself any place but here. You know? I like the park in my backyard, the peace, the safety…the people.” Finally Beth really focused on Jack, reaching out a hand to rest on his and give it a small squeeze. The instant she did it was like crossing wires, the electricity from it racing up her fingers and arm only quitting once it had reached her heart.

And it skipped a beat.

Beth hastily pulled her hand back, rose color staining her cheeks. But she didn’t look away; she kept her eyes on the man in front of her.

“Isn’t that why you stayed?” She ventured.

“There is something to all the quiet traditions around here, the way we were raised. Could you imagine being brought up anywhere else? Or you know…when you have kids not being able to show them all the wonderful things that are around this town?” Now she really had to get off this subject. Beth had no idea why, her innocent comment about his eventual children had conjured not the image of Jack leading around a gaggle of boys, but the making of those eventual children.

If she hadn’t already been flushed with embarrassed color, the mere mental picture would have sent her into fits. Two bodies tangled in dark silky sheets, rough hands on delicate flesh, lips and tongues, moans and grunts. It wasn’t the soft, gentle love making of movies or romance novels that her mind had gone to, no; it was the dangerous sort of passion, stormy and rough. Limbs twined around each other, each straining toward their own completion.

Beth cleared her throat, an interruption of the fantasies that her own mind had come up with. It was painfully obvious that her lack of male companionship was making her go a little stir crazy. If a simple conversation with an old friend sent her into pornographic daydreams.

“I’m sorry…” She shook her head, blinking at Jack.

“I was just thinking about your vacation….” Beth’s inner voice was screaming 'liar.'

“I don’t think your family has ever gotten out of this town without trouble…except they do say that your Dad got to have a full day off for his honeymoon before all hell broke…” Oh, dear “loose.”

She could feel the heat start to rise in her office, or maybe that was the after effects of being so embarrassed for so long.

“Have you tried the jam yet?” Beth changed subjects while she shrugged out of her lab coat, trying to steer them anywhere but back to where they’d been.

“I made it last summer with blackberries…” She finished lamely.

"I stayed because I'd get eaten alive in college and never cut it in the real world." He answered, smiling faintly.

Her hand was so damned small against his own He'd looked down to see her slender fingers atop the back of his hand, gripping the meat along its heel. The comparison was startling. Her body a collection of soft, fluid angles and naturally graceful lines. His own was sharply cut, far less refined. He'd a hardened edge to his build, toned not in the glamorous bulk of a weight lifter but rather the corded, rangy-lean fitness of an outdoorsman.

The jam comment was lost in the real conversation then. He watched her, seated neatly on the couch's opposite side, before continuing. The lights of the clinic, harsh white tubes above them, had a tendency of bringing out the worst in people. She was radiant as ever, and her blushing coupled with the way she'd touched his hand had been enough to inspire his own dark twist of thoughts.

"Going to school the way you did would have overwhelmed me, Beth. Just the size of it all and the concept of working on someone else's schedule. Here? Well, here I just help everyone as I can and pick up the occasional mess and I'm left alone alright. No bosses.

He straightened, couldn't help himself. Roland caught the movement and was at his side, head canted. The 9 year old dog had been the better of Jack's friends since he'd started raising the pup. It'd started out painfully cute and turned powerfully handsome. He dragged his fingers behind Roe's ears a bit before smacking his haunch and sending him back to entertain the pup in earnest. When he looked back he found Beth's eyes keyed on his own once more.

"I'm glad you're back. It means the world to everyone. We're an uglier town without you." He smiled faintly, before quipping. "I mean that literally, as well. You are the only blonde, you know."

Beth laughed. What more could she do when he said those things to her? Made their town a more beautiful place? And how would he have noticed that she was the only blonde? This was a comfortable little picture they made, dogs wrestling on the floor, running about in her waiting room, the hound pup whipping itself into frenzied circles around Jack’s good ol’ boy, Roland.

She bit her lip a little, looking at her long time friend through the long shadow of her golden lashes. Her eyes were warm, more so than they’d been last night when she’d asked him in, and now her face wasn’t lined with worry over her father. They walked a delicate line, this tentative friendship and flirtation, the doctor and the sheriff, sitting a little too cozily on her couch, snacking and chatting like old times.

Only the sound of her radio behind the desk could have drawn her back from his face and the smooth cadence of his voice. Like the flicker of lights coming back on, and the magic of candle’s flames being extinguished, she was up from her seat and dashing behind the table, lifting her radio’s mouth piece to her lips. One of her long delicate fingers, flicking a switch before she spoke.

“This is Dr. Beth Ballentine, you are on a medical emergency channel, state your emergency.” Any trace of her soft voice was gone, now she was pure business. Tone clipped and concerned. A pen in her hand poised over paper.

“Repeat, this is a medica-“ she would have finished if the speaker before her hadn’t roared to life, with the sounds of a crackled connection and a low voice.

“Beth, this…Dean.” Her brows narrowed, not knowing if the man on the other end had paused for pain or if it was the poor connection.

“Where are you?” This was the foremost in her mind, a glance toward the window, showed the snow falling with more than a little purpose outside, Jack hadn’t been joking when he’d said that it was about to ruin his planned hunting trip.

“Highway, north, up through Denali.” Beth scrawled and scribbled, each piece of information as their connection together flickered, knowing an accident was to be expected in this weather. Dean drove a semi to deliver goods from Fairbanks, if he was traveling north, today wasn’t the day to do it, any fool would know that. But the Doctor kept those thoughts to herself, and did her best to reassure the trucker that she would get to him, and warned him to stay inside, unless he started smelling smoke or fuel.

She was a whirlwind then, throwing on her jacket over the white coat, and tossing each slip on shoe off, before plunging her dainty feet back into snow-boots that were kept in the office. As she did, she hurried around the office, grabbing her medical bag, though the back of her truck was equipped as an ambulance.

“Stay.” Her voice shushed the puppy, who promptly came to a whimpered sitting pose as she started toward the door, only tossing its sad eyes from both Jack and Beth, as his mistress turned to the Sherriff.

“Jack, could you come?” Beth found the question launched before she could think better. What did she do without him here? She wouldn’t have waited for help, Beth would have gone up by herself, snow or no snow. Maybe Jack was just a convenient person to have at the office, after all, if this was an accident, someone would have to file a report.

“Ramona will be here to watch the dogs, soon.” Beth offered, wrapping her scarf around her neck and pulling on her gloves.

“I may need a ride along if he needs to be stabilized.” Who knew how long Dean had?

But now wasn’t the time to be coy and simper and act like a flirt. This was business, Beth could flip that switch on a dime.

However, the slightest bit of girlish dreaming did slip along her throat and curl around her heart making her pulse jump. And Beth sent a grateful smile his way as she opened her truck door.

“I guess I owe you another one, Sherriff. If things keep going like this, it’ll be a long time before I can pay you back.”

Jack Sullivan had seen accidents. This was the worst one he'd ever seen. When it came to fatalities in Kayaska they took their share. Mostly it was truck drivers, younger ones, who didn't show the roads that by the towns their due respect. Highway was a loose term around these parts. In comparison to the south-east part of the state Kayaska's highways were little more than two-lane back roads. There was no plowing them out here. No salt, either. The roads here were often covered by snow and ice and the darkness. Denali's trees seemed to become particular as winter came in and resources scant. It was as though they'd learned to suck the light into themselves because out here, where they flanked the road, it always seemed a few shades dimmer.

"Jesus Christ."

It was Beth. She startled him from his thoughts.

"Look at it."

And he did. Again. This time, though, Jack made an effort to see the mess that had once been Dean Ander's beautiful new Volvo Rig. The tractor trailer had driven almost lazily off the road and Dean hadn't attempted to correct course, Jack could see that in the tracks. He'd driven the truck right off the road and down thirteen feet of embankment. By his most brief calculations the Trucker had been pushing over fifty but his heart said it was more like seventy. Dean wasn't a new trucker. Dean wasn't a young buck. Dean had driven the Denali roads for eighteen years and become as regular in town as an outsider could be. Hell, when he'd shown up with that brand new rig he'd been congratulated by everyone who'd seen him. He was a hell of a reliable trucker and also one hell of a fine man.

The truck's tractor had struck the opposite side of the embankment and disintegrated. Pieces of twisted steel and fiberglass had blown out in all directions, mixing with the glass of the windows, and peppered the snow. The trailer had just kept coming with all forty-thousand pounds of lumber behind it. No stop was going to keep it from moving. It was worse than any wrecking ball in history at fifty miles an hour. At seventy it had simply squashed the cab into the embankment and sent fuel, oil, and pieces of debris no-larger than Jack's fingers everywhere.

The trailer had then slipped down and smeared the remains of the truck's cab down with it, coming to rest at the bottom with its back-end cocked high toward the road and tilted over onto its side. There was no sign of Dean.

Not that there needed to be.

"Call in the chopper." The horror in Beth's voice unsettled him.

"Stay he-" Jack began, cautiously.

"No."

It was immediate. There was no strain in her voice, only the quiet and complete honesty of a woman that had made up her mind. Jack turned his head to look at her and saw her pretty face had taken up a rather sudden austerity, a look that just about screamed "if you think you're going to find Dean in that without me you are abso-fucking-lutely out of your mind". Something, by the by, he could not even imagine Beth saying. He wasn't sure, thinking about it, that he'd ever heard her curse. But boy, that look was enough. It was worse than any string of sailor's cusses he'd heard spewed his way when he'd made an arrest.

But Dean Anders was dead. That much was very clear. It was almost impossible to believe he'd managed to make a call for help. Jack was surprised he hadn't been turned into a jelly and dripping down with the oil and gas from the crushed cabin. However he managed to stay alive, the man was going to be mauled. It wasn't something he wanted Beth to see. This was probably going to be her first time seeing a man, up close, who'd been in a truck wreck.

He began to open his mouth, to settle her, but stopped. She'd have listened if he'd pushed. He saw it in her eyes. They softened on his face to watch his thoughts play through them. Admired, even. The glint of affection there was most likely smaller than it'd ever been, but the contrast between it and the strict professionalism of her manner made it seem suddenly and surely brilliant.

And he saw now that if things were going to play out between them he couldn't try and cart her around like a princess. She wasn't that type of girl.

So he nodded. Once. And braced himself.

The cold struck them as soon as they left the Tahoe, a blast of deep chill with gritty snow carried with it. It lashed from the north and twisted its way up the road, slamming into the denim of his jeans and pushing back against his coat. She lingered near him, laid a gloved hand on his elbow until the gust passed, and started moving towards the natural trench formed by a sudden drop-off in the eastern side of the road.

Jack took the lead, but only to show her the way down. His feet picked the way easily, flanking past the trailer and towards the remains of the cab. The snow crunching under his boot, the thick acidic stench of gasoline as they drew near.

There was an arm in the snow. Dean Ander's left arm. It'd been sheered off when the truck struck the embankment and flipped out the window, rolled down the slope to rest further down. The end was a tatter of meat, already frozen from the cold, and bloodied. Jack anticipated the grip of Beth's hands but didn't feel it, instead, he noticed she'd started moving past him to the crushed cabin's driver-side door.

It was bent in a V, buckled up and useless. Jack gave it one hard tug and it popped completely free, taking some of the disintegrated cabin with it. Chunks of cherry-red plexiglass that crunched as it hit the snow when he tossed it aside.

Dean Anders was inside, crushed to the steering wheel. Or rather, infused with it. The seat was rammed so far forward that he'd been crushed against the collapsable steering column and it'd embedded solidly in his chest. Both of his legs had been severed by the seat-cushion where it had driven to met the immobile dashboard. Dean's head reminded him of Terry Drubbers in elementary school. Terry had always had green grapes packed with his lunch by his mother and he never, ever ate them. Instead, he popped them between his fingers, watching the juice slick up his hands and their pulpiness fall to the floor. It was like someone had put the poor trucker's head in a vice and squeezed until it simply gave, one eye had popped out of its socket and lay hanging against his cheek. The other was full of blood, perhaps exploded. The phone was in his right hand which lay still atop the buckled dash, bloodied.

Jack checked for a pulse just to spare Beth.

"He's dead?" She asked him.

He nodded.

"Why didn't he brake or swerve?"

"I think he fell asleep."

But he saw Beth wasn't convinced, saw it in her eyes. Her face told him she thought that was the most logical conclusion. Her eyes told him that her intuitions were sending up the same screaming red-flares as his own.

For one, Dean Anders lived for trucking. He'd slept in town last night and gotten more than ten solid hours before taking off. Jack wasn't sure but he also expected a coffee cup to be amidst the remains of the truck. Dean usually had one cup a day, just to make sure he was awake when he started. One cup. Black.

"Let's get in the truck until Jim shows up." He suggested.

And she didn't hesitate to join him. Jack was glad for it, and comforted in the fact that he wasn't the only one who thought something about this was even more awful than Dean Anders getting crushed to death in his brand new truck.

The scene was a flurry of death and snow. Coming up on the horrific accident, Beth had swallowed down her sense of impending doom, it was her sense of duty that felt that maybe something of Dean was still alive down the embankment, she could save him, but that itch of realism that flared in her brain, that would tell her when to check the clock, told her that he was DOA.

Her eyes followed each and every little detail of it; all of the information could paint a picture of what had transpired. Beth’s mind glossed over the blood, she’d seen blood before, it dotted the snow, melted into its cold white depths. Like where his arm rested like a disturbing work of art, it’s bloodied end, so red and so alive in the silence and white around them.

And even if Jack had wanted to her stop, she couldn’t have.

It was an invisible string that tugged her, told her that there was something strange about this, her vision of Dean or what was left of his husk with Jack’s fingers at his neck had her more than a little confused. This wasn’t a case of no sleep; in her heart she knew it. Beth knew that even if Dean had fallen down on the job, at least he would have jolted awake when his tires hit the rocks on the side of the wild woods below, he would have turned, his load would have swung back and hit first. He could have saved himself.

Nothing about this made sense.

Her boots crunched up as they hiked back to the truck, Beth was silent. She could have kicked herself for being late, too late, but the image she’d witnessed told a different story. Even if she’d been standing next to him when it happened there would have been very little she could do.

Still, she wrapped her arms around herself; those pretty green eyes were thoughtful and distant, and locked on the tire markings, slowly being filled with snow. The blonde leaned against the side of her vehicle and shook her head. Things didn’t fit right, like a puzzle with a missing piece.

Reaching out a gloved hand she muscled the door open, even in the small span of minutes that they’d been outside, she could begin to feel the cold through all the layers of clothing, that wasn’t rare. But a certain amount of chill came from inside of her.

Once she squeezed into her seat, Beth still hadn’t said a word. It wasn’t emotion, but confusion that kept her silent. But finally she looked back at Jack, Jack who’d naturally taken the lead. It had all seemed too easy, following in his footsteps through the carnage, holding his arm as the winds blew around them.

Asking him to confirm that Dean Anders was dead.

“I hope Jim gets here soon.” Her voice had been so clipped outside, professional and full of purpose, and now, it was dull, losing its usual luster in the small cab of the truck, the words having just drifted from under her breath and to their ears.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene before them. In every mirror it echoed, she could look passed Jack and see that semi, or what was left of it.

Beth took off her gloves, and closed her eyes, rubbing at the spot between her eyes and the bridge of her nose where cartilage met bone. Where Dean’s eye had exploded outward…

Those green orbs flashed open as her mind drifted back there, but her fingers didn’t still their rubbing against the tension.

“I’m glad you were here, Jack.” She breathed out and let her eyes drift up to him.

“I mean, I’m not…you know what I mean.” Beth’s half smile fluttered against her lips, falling quickly back into her frown.

Reaching across the small span of space, she once again rested her hand on his arm. It was a vital connection, something that said that there was still life in the brutal scene they sat in.

“This is no way for you to spend your day…I’m sorry, I could always wait…for Jim.” She offered weakly, knowing there was no way Jack would take that offer.

Outside the snow was falling, dusting the road. Jack watched as the tire ruts were eventually covered and thought of how many of these accidents he had seen. His father had told him when he'd joined the State Troopers that you learned quickly in Alaska that nature marched on, paid no homage, and had no reverence for the tragedies of men. Fifty feet away Dean Anders lay broken at the wheel of his rig. There was no good reason for it. None at all. Jack looked at Beth. Saw the sadness. The flicker of darkness in her face. She was young and beautiful and it had no place in the soft features of her face.

Leaving her alone out here was never an option, not to him.

He'd quit the Troopers as his father had before him and been elected Sheriff. And like his father he made a tradition out of serving the people here before himself. It wasn't the only thing that kept him out here. She was looking out across the road into the dark trees that flanked that lonely stretch of road. He was looking at her. Even now he found himself acutely aware of her sweetness, the softness of her youth and the tenderness in her manner that had captivated him and turned her into Kayaska's resident darling.

"There's Jim." She said.

He looked to see that she was right. The Deputy's Ranger came to a halt behind his Denali, lights flashing. Jack felt Beth's hand find his, small fingers laying atop the long stretch of his own, and looked to her. What he saw in her face he didn't like. At all. Any of the cheer he knew her for had sapped entirely away.

"Come on." Part command. Part encouragement. An awkward mix. He was never much with words.

She managed a troubled nod and he squeezed her fingers. It was enough, it seemed, to spark her to find her strength again. She got out and he followed, boots crunching on the snow.

Jim Taggart met them halfway between the cars. His brown eyes set beneath brown brows, brown hair. He was a good looking man in his thirties, a man who would have probably ended up Sheriff if Jack hadn't come along when he had. But to Jim's credit he never held it against Jack or the town. He just kept on policing. They'd become friends. He pulled his hat off his head and tucked it under his arm, quite the accomplishment really. Jim Taggart was nearly two-hundred and fifty pounds, most of it not muscle. He had a thick handlebar mustache that would have been blatantly ridiculous if he wasn't good-natured enough for it to fit.

"Jack. Beth. Jesus." He said, the nasal quality of his voice adding gentle emphasis as he looked onto the ruined mess of Dean's cab.

"Jim. Get the wrecker and settle things. I want lots of pictures on this one." Jack said. He heard his voice 'go to the badge' as his father had called it. It meant he was talking like a cop.

"I've already got Bobby bringing the wrecker. I can't believe Dean fell asleep at the wheel." The man answered.

"Don't assume anything. My report is that I arrived on-scene with Beth after we received a call for help. Dean was 10-58. Other than that investigate it and tell me what you find. Make sure you get lots of pictures." Jack said.

"What's up, Jack?" Jim was a good officer and a smart man. He was looking at Jack steadily now, searching his face.

Jack sighed, speaking, unaware that his hand had lifted to find the small of Beth's back and press there. The lean stretch of her spine obstructed by the padding of her jacket, light and feminine against his touch. Jim didn't gawk or give a moment's pause.

"No signs that he hit the brakes, Jim. Not that I could see. Let's just see if we can get a proper cause for the accident."

"Alright, Jack. I didn't see any either now that you mention it but maybe we'll find something. I'm going to head down." Jim turned now to Beth, looking at her. His round face suddenly sincere as he looked at her, smiling some. "It was good of you to rush out like that, Beth. Dean's wife will appreciate it."

And then he went down to the mess of Dean's rig. Jack watched him go until he felt Beth pull from his hand. Noticing, for the first time, that he'd had it above the swell of her backside. She was moving to the car.

He followed her into his Denali, aware of just how cold it was getting. The absence of her warmth against his hand was a stark check of winter's approach. Soon these roads would be solid sheets of ice, buried in thick snow.

"You want some coffee before I take you back?" He asked.

It came from him as he closed his door and looked to her. She was looking out the front window. He thought she could use the company and the conversation. Something to deal with the image of Dean's body broken against the wheel of his rig and the sound of his voice over the phone. Jack knew what that was like. His father had called it mini-therapy. Self-healing. A way people dealt with hard things so they could go back to the world they knew.

Beth didn't answer. He reached out and touched her hand to steal her attention.

She was barely in the moment. It all seemed like a strange sort of dream, standing in the snow with Jim and Jack, their voices swirling around her just as much as the small white flakes were. She nodded where she was prompted; green eyes dull with worry and loaded with questions.

Beth wasn’t used to this sort of thing, when patients arrived from scenes like this one; she treated the person, the situation, the hurts and pains. The woman had a knack for separating life and death. The smell of blood now made her nostrils flare and she had to swallow down the sick feeling she hadn’t felt since her first dissection in anatomy class freshman year.

Even being near the men as they talked about Dean, lent the whole ordeal a sense of closure that she just was unwilling to have while standing on the sight of a friends death. Beth Ballentine pulled away from Jack’s solid hand to make her way back to the truck, wordless and sure that a small bit of shock was finally seeping into her. But she straightened her spine and tugged the door open yet again, staring helplessly to Jim making his way down the embankment.

She shivered, wrapped up in her warm winter coat and wool lined boots. Beth wasn’t able to tear those bright green orbs from the red painted snow until Jack finally touched her, forcing the young doctor to finally look away, to his face.

He seemed like he’d said something to her, the look on his face expectant and curious. She forced a weak smile, as an apology, pulling her hand away slowly from the heat of his.

Jack repeated his offer and Beth just nodded, not trusting her voice. She was strong, like all of those that lived in this area, and she’d been so bent on proving that to Jack. It wouldn’t do to have her voice crack with emotion, so it was probably best to just keep silent.

And that was the way she stayed for more than ten miles. Ten miles before she visibly relaxed and her shoulders hunching forward, hands dropping to her sides, ten miles before she leaned toward Jack scooting as close as she dared, while he drove quietly through the weather, her head finally resting on his shoulder. Something that she would have never dreamed of before this moment, but the connection to him, the horror they’d left behind…it was nice to feel something alive, hear his breathing…feel the pull of muscles as he handled the wheel.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head up to smell the aftershave he used and the shampoo in his hair. The cold started seeping from her, being replaced with the warmth that only his company provided. Her lips parted to breathe him in, knowing that her exhaled breath would tickle against his neck, but not caring about what that would suggest.

Beth wouldn’t dare venture any further than this. He was her friend, he was protective, the Sheriff. It would have been a few short movements to have her seat belt off and plaster herself against his side slide her palm along his thigh, inside his jacket…

She sighed softly, instead resting her delicate, dedicated hand on the seat, next to him. But still the woman turned her cheek into his slightly damp coat, the rustle of it sliding against her heated cheeks, cooled off her thoughts.

And yet….it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he wanted her closer. Jack didn’t seem all that adverse to her at his side. It was only fear of rejection and guilt over her actions so shortly after their investigation that kept her silent.

“Jack?” Or somewhat silent.

“I’ve never…” She’d never what? Seen anything like that? Felt anything like this?

“Nevermind.” Her own cowardess annoyed her into silence.

"I know. It's alright." He answered.

His prick was hard. Tight in his jeans. The thick length of it surging down the inseam of his thigh, stretching the denim. It was an uncomfortable heat. An itch that he couldn't scratch. It only got worse with the heated puff of her words against his neck, the warmth of her breath along his bare skin. Jack lifted a hand, broke his own paralysis to stroke his strong fingers along Beth's jawline. The skin soft beneath his touch, passing under his caress as he made to soothe her, still her against his shoulder.

She fit well against him. The realization was as bold as it was sudden. A powerful contrast to what he'd expected of this moment. In his mind the first time he'd touched her played unsteady, awkward. More akin to the jumbled efforts of his teenage years than any kind of certain grace.

"First accident is the hardest, Beth." He said.

He didn't think less of her for being shaken up. To be honest Dean's accident shook him up, too. He couldn't shake that there was no swerving, no jack-knife. He saw no break gouges or attempt to fight for the rig once it started drifting. And he'd seen Beth's face, the realization she had nobody to help. It was a helplessness he hadn't enjoyed in her youthful features. One he didn't care to see again.

And still, grim as the thoughts were, they did nothing to dissuade his hard-on. It beat with a primitive cadence, swelling greater as his touch seemed to turn her more intently into him. He could feel the shape of her breasts against his arm, the way her breath quickened some. Relief, he imagined, was a sweetness she'd needed right now. Relief from the grief, the shock, and the burden of her profession.

Jack thought he related to all that well.

"It's alright, Beth."

The words came again. Jack turned his head, let his nose push through her hair. The silk moved against his touch, sweetness filled his senses. She smelled so good. She was so soft. It made it so natural to kiss the top of her head, aware that his thumb was stroking along her cheek and nearly touching the corner of her full lips.

Beth let him touch her. He slid his fingers against her skin, petting her as if she was a beloved pet, or a treasured possession. With her eyes closed every word he said drifted over her ears and was magnified, every brush of his thumb tickled her nerves and made her stomach tighten.

He was so gentle, with his kind words and little touches. Jack had never been one to waste time with talk, but he murmured to her that it was alright, he understood. It was a heady sort of talk, Beth had always been attracted to those strong silent types, though she’d been in the big city of Juneau, they’d never come quite as strong and silent as Jack.

Jack who kissed the part of her hair, she felt him nuzzle her, which had the air in her lungs captured until the little moment passed. She didn’t dare move, afraid of breaking whatever spell he was weaving around her. It wasn’t until his thumb stroked along her jaw that she finally ventured out again, turning her head ever so slightly to lay a small kiss against the rough digit. Her lips were warm, and his hands were just on the edges of cool. It was a nice contrast, she finally opened her eyes as she flicked out her tongue, kitten like, to pull it in between her lips, sucking softly for just the barest moment, before she released him, and let her leaf colored eyes venture upward to Jack.

But there was no confusion in her eyes now, just the darkening of her gaze as the latch on the seatbelt she wore clicked to free his passenger, and with it, something else was freed inside her. It was short work to unzip her coat and shrug it off her shoulders; the heat in the cab of the truck was nothing compared to the way her blood sung with need.

She moved toward him, sparing a look out the wind shield of his car before her lips were kissing along his neck. Beth surprised herself with such bold actions, she’d never been known as an aggressor, most would be surprised to know of any move she’d made toward the town sheriff.

But her mouth press hot caresses to his ear, where she spoke finally.

“Keep driving, Jack. Please.” Her lips accompanied those words, traveling down his jaw, as her hand made its way to the zipper of his coat.

She almost scandalized by herself, if it wasn’t for her hand brushing against his length as she pulled against the coat, she could have stopped, if he’d said it, hinted at it, she could have pulled back and sat down.

Kept quiet.

But when she felt his need for her, she cooed softly in the crook of his neck, pulling down his coat and sweater to press little kisses to his shoulder.

“You can tell me to stop, Jack.” Beth made sure that he knew it, though her hands were busy, running up his chest or down his legs. It gave her a sense of danger here, she needed him, but his attention for the road fought against her.

Beth ventured a kiss at the corner of his mouth, her rosy lips sucked against his bottom one. She wanted to slip between him and the steering wheel, but settled for leaning against him, breasts pressed against his side, arms around him, lips busying themselves against any exposed flesh.

It felt so very right.

“I want you.” It was a whisper against his mouth and cheek, and she meant it. She’d never needed him more than she did at this moment.

She moved against him, serpentine. Freed from the belt her lean frame took a fluid, slick movement. Feminine grace focused as she slid up against him, full breasts crushed into his side. Into his arm. The hand that'd found her cheek left it, slipped down, along her side, a silent encouragement. Her breath warmed his skin, soothed it against the sharp jolt of sensation that followed her lips. Jack wasn't a soft man. His skin was smooth, drawn over lean muscles. A hiker's body. An outdoorsman's. She explored what she could and he let her, forgetting frequently the road infront of him. His eyes fighting to walk over her softly-curved frame, to catch the gentle features of her face as she looked up at him. Glimpses. Unsatisfying.

Keep driving she had said. Gods knows he was trying.

He drove on with one hand as the other slipped under her. All at once his hand found the smooth stretch of her belly, surging beneath her coat to arc down along the skin. He felt her press into him, her hips roll. Hints of a shape, of desires, that he'd long imagined. She was a modest woman in public, even with him. Always covered, dressed conservatively. The shape of her body betrayed in those rare moments she twisted so, bent so, that her clothes couldn't hide the beauty beneath. To feel her under his hand sent his prick into a series of hard jerks, powerful flexes that sent a heady ache ripping through him.

"Ten minutes to my house." He whispered.

The words hot against her lips, smothered some as she suckled on the thin line of his lip. He tried to kiss her, tried to crush their mouths together but she pulled back. Slipped back to the pulse line of his throat, arched her back as his fingers found the waist of her jeans and forced their way inside. The denim trapping his fingers to her panties, pressed against the soft fabric that kept her from him. Through the sheer barrier he felt the shape of our mound, the bud of her clit hardening under the pads of his fingers. Warmth. Wet. A stark contrast to the cabin's cool, an intimate invitation. But the best he could do was press his fingers into her, sway that tight button side to side beneath his rough fingers as his wrist remained tightly trapped by her jeans.

Ten minutes.

Keep Driving.

But as she arched against him, as her sounds came in disjointed pants and a rare whimper of want, all he wanted to do was pull over. Beneath her small hands his body was a tense cord of muscle, the hard angles of his body pronounced as he tightened beneath her. Sensation coming in waves, unsatisfied. Tormented by the path of her fingers along his skin, the soft warmth of her lips as they bussed pouted kisses into the shell of his shoulder. He struggled to keep his eyes on the road. To keep from looking at her. His only retaliation the gentle grind of her clit under his strong fingers.

Beth panted against him, wild now with his attention and that promise of ten minutes. Things were heated now, his hand venturing further than it ever had, he made her squirm and squeal with excitement and pleasure. One of her own hands reached down under the steering wheel to feel along his hard length, rubbing his cock in time to his own frantic movements against her clit.

It was like they were teenagers, needy and unable to wait. Her lips were anywhere she could put them, but she still breathed heavily with him, their windows fogging, hinting at the activities going on inside the cab.

And it was both the longest and shortest ten minutes of her life.

By the time they came to a sudden halt, she was half crazy with lust, Jack ripping the door open and pulling her along, she wrapped herself up in his arms, finally standing face to face in the falling snow, jacket long left behind, she curled herself into Jack, threading her arms behind him, linking her hands at his back under his coat. Her hips served as a cradle for his hardness, she brushed her hips back and forth, a simulated movement of the way his fingers had caressed her only minutes before.

Beth was on her tip toes, stretching and reaching for his mouth hungrily. She supped greedily there, finally letting him take her mouth, twisting her tongue against his lips and teeth and questing toward its partner. She opened for him, like a beautiful winter blooming flower, so rare and sweet and urgent.

She would take in the rays of his warmth; Beth needed it, and needed him.

Finally she ducked under his arm, giving him a sultry smile as she led him toward his house. Beth hadn’t been there, not in a long while. And certainly not for the purpose she saw in his eyes.

She reached for the handle, knowing that the door would be unlocked, and pushed inside.

Her hands were already helping Jack out of his coat, pushing the covering to the ground as she let him lead her backward through the house, trusting him to keep her safe and take her where they needed to go.

Next was his shirt followed by heated kisses against his bare chest, and hands following the corded muscles down his stomach and arms. Beth had always prided herself on her own self control. She rarely gave in to impulses, dressed plainly and simply. But beneath her demure nature was a wildcat. Pale skin and pert breasts with hardening pink nipples, she was slender by nature and years of enjoying dance, long legs and a tight waist.

And she wanted Jack to run his hands over all of it.

“Bedroom?” She panted, already slipping her fingers over the tops of his pants, shakily popping the button of them free of the hole sewn there, it was nothing to pull that stubborn zipper down and slip her hands around his hips.

Each time they parted, stepped back down the hall to his room, it was as though they were thrown together again. Jackets shed, left where they lay, rumpled hints of the chill outside abandoned. She emerged in the rumple of her attire, caught in places, ruffled in others, where the twist of her body to get close to him had let it cling and ride up to reveal slices of skin and hints of full curves. She had his hands then, her small fingers closed in his, a wicked little smile taking her lips. Jack let his eyes appreciate her mouth. The soft shape of it beckoning. Her teeth teasing it to an ever-darkening pink, her cheeks flushed with want. How was it that he felt jealous? How was it that his mind strayed to images of pretty frat boys and their gym-built hard bodies tasting her?

This place had a way of shaping its men. Some turned to drunks. Some turned softies. Most got hard. Damned hard. The kind of country strong and stern-browed tough that the city folks couldn't imitate. Jack had tried hard to grow along the median, to be balanced. But he'd never really become a long talker or an easy one, he'd always lived his life through the quiet brevity of action. It was easier to be honest that way. It kept him intune.

The jealousy was a part of him that'd been dormant so long that he'd forgotten it. That feral part. The kind that made him want to take, and force, and protect. It was as nurturing as it was unrestrained. Clawing its way at him, breaking down barriers, surging towards the woman beckoning him down his hallway. She was helping him get through the dull parts, the uncertainty. The tangles of feeling that lay beneath the surface.

They needed each other. The rest would sort itself.

Damn her fingers felt good.

They flew along his chest before dipping lower. He shed his shirt, leaving it behind to reach for her. While her fingers worked on his jeans his own worked on her blouse, nearly destroying the buttons as he jerked them from their sewn holes. The fabric parted to reveal the deep valley between her breasts, thrust up by the bra that clasped them. She was so young. So soft. One hand curled about her waist as the other lifted, palm smoothing her breast. He felt the beat of her heart in his hand, quickening as his fingers stroked over the cup of her bra and along the top of her breast.

And then his jeans popped open and the zipper spun down, his hard prick keeping his denims from falling rapidly to the floor. His boxers strained, the cotton tight, revealing just how long his shaft stretched down his thigh.

"Beth..." Her name came. Rough. He hardly recognized the growl in his voice, the hard edge of it.

He caught her eyes flick up to him, soft and green. The blond tresses of her hair framing her face.

Jack kissed her hard as she shed her shirt, dragging her into him. All at once her breasts crushed to his bare chest, the bra a thin accent between them. His mouth rough in its claim on the soft pout of her lips as he tasted her, thrust his tongue against hers before tugging on the plush surface of her lower lip with his teeth. A hard affection as he reached the bedroom door and pressed her against it, trapping her lean body between the dark-stained wood and his rugged frame.

She’d always been “sweet Beth” or “adorable Beth” or “reliable Beth”. None of those things came remotely close to “sexy Beth” or “sultry Beth” or “passionate Beth”. She’d been doomed to “Cute” her whole life. She couldn’t count how many boys had fumbled over the word as they complimented her in school, there was something so luke warm about the term, it didn’t inspire need, or precipitate want.

As Jack started to remove her clothing she felt all of the things for so many years she’d wished she was. This was no awkward school boy that ran his hands hesitantly along her body. Jack owned her skin, her lips…he pressed her for more, and Beth delivered with each matched stroke of her tongue, each small sigh or muffled whimper.

She couldn’t be gentle, and didn’t want that from him; she reveled in the way he forced her against his door, pushing his hard, lean body into hers. But that wouldn’t stop her from pushing down against his jeans, desperate actions made her reckless, and she strained against him to move the clinging denim down passed his knees.

“Jack, oh Jack.” Beth said his name against his lips, it was the only thing going through her mind, and though he muffled her little words of encouragement, there was no drowning out her little cries of pleasure.

He’d growled, like one of the bears that liked to roam in their neck of the woods. It should have frightened her, but instead it heightened her arousal, made her shiver and turn her back to him, presenting her softly rounded backside as she pushed her own jeans down her legs, each delicious inch of freedom made her skin tingle, as she showed Jack the soft cotton of her panties, that tastefully matched her bra.

Instead of turning back around Beth ran her hands up the flat surface of the door she was pressed against, mirroring the movements of his calloused fingers. She rocked her hips back, the only barriers now were the thin cotton fabrics that they hadn’t been freed from, still her nails scratched at the door, as she begged for him to make her his. The words so pretty on her lips, so soft and polite.

“Take me Jack.” She pleaded, pushing back against him before turning to face the Sheriff. Beth hurried to completely uncover him, trying to gain some semblance of sanity that seemed to have left her, however there was none to be found. There was only Jack and lust.

And lust had her wrapping both hands around his hot length of silk over steel. She couldn’t help herself as she cradled him in her palms, running that hard cock along her fingers. She was mindless in her exploration, lips continuing to open under his. But she wanted it inside her, the way she pulled him toward her, swayed against him, the hot little words gasped against his neck told him so.

“Now, Please…” Beth moaned, unwilling to wait for romance or foreplay. She could feel the wetness between her thighs, soaking into her panties, could feel it coating his fingers and her bare pussy lips.

And she wanted it around him.

Jack leaned his forehead against hers, let his lips finally break from the soft line of her mouth. Looking between them he saw how her small fingers played along the hard line of his prick, pumping from its base to the thick crown. Precum dribbled from the slit, turning the velvet skin slick and coating her digits as they continued to surge along him. Each squeeze, each hard stroke, curled his toes. He felt sensations arc sharply through him, tensing muscles all along his frame as his hands slipped down under her.

Outside the snow was falling. Winter making its onslaught. Dean Anders lay dead in the ruins of his rig's cab and Kayaska's residences prepared themselves for the dark and the cold. Up until today he'd been doing much the same, escaping his job to feel like one of them. A regular man. Staring at Beth, thinking of moments like this, seemed so natural a thing to do. In a way it made him feel regular amongst them. Everyone who had seen Beth had wanted her. Had hoped she was as passionate as she was sweet.

But she was alive under his hands now. Real. As his strong fingers ran down the firm cheeks of his backside she arched more wantonly into him, spine bent into a seductive female arc that crushed her smooth belly against the rippled edges of his own. Her fingers abandoned his prick between them, left it trapped in the heat between them as they coiled about his neck.

"Jack..." She whispered urgently, her lips shaping words like kisses against his shoulder.

His fingers sunk into the cheeks of her ass and lifted her, found her so light against him. All at once her lean legs fought to wrap around him, finding his lean hips and coiling tightly there. The silk of her calves and thighs embracing him caused his prick to twitch as it settled beneath her, the crown resting along the spread crack of her backside. The heat of her panty-clad pussy thick along the shaft.

Jack kissed her. Hard. Even as his fingers pushed the cotton from her slick petals and his body trapped her more urgently against the door. The first thrust of his hips butted his plump crown against her sex and sent it skidding beneath her along her ass. He groaned. The sound a low and angry rumble against her mouth. He felt her smile, a cheshire's grin before her hand slipped down between them. Once again her small fingers circled his base, guiding it, stroking the head of his length along her click petals until the full crown pushed its way between them. She guided him over her clit, teased herself with him as her teeth captured his lower lip.

"Beth.." Jack heard himself, didn't recognize the desperation in his voice. She kissed him.

"Me too." She said, guiding him into place.

He almost smiled. He almost kissed her when her fingers found his cheek and held it. But instead Jack claimed her. He thrust hard. Mercilessly driving his prick into the tight sheath of her body, forcing her wet petals to spread along his thick shaft.

Her breath caught so sharply in her throat, stifling any cry that could have come from her. Jack stretched her, painfully at first though she was slick and wet, waiting for him to claim her. She jolted against the door, along his body, stiffening with the assault.

How long had it been since someone had made love to her? Beth didn’t care to think on it. There was only here and now, she shifted her hips to sit on him more comfortably, her passion only shaken for the barest of moments. Any second and she would accommodate him, open further for him. Beth buried her face in his shoulder, her hands wrapped just as tightly as her legs were around him. Every inch of his naked flesh surrounded by her own pale skin.

She sucked against the cords of his neck, finally pushing up, using his body for leverage to lift her round ass and pull her pussy up toward the thick crown of his member; she shook there in his arms, teeth raking along skin as she welcomed him back into her. Beth sunk into his hands holding her hips, had him spread her, molded her like clay and fit her as tightly against him as he dared. The flames of their coupling licked her just as his tongue did, as hers trailed along his shoulder, tasting the salt on his skin, covering him with love bites. The blond felt the impact of every movement; it jarred her body forcing her to bump up against his hard stomach creating that sweet friction that caused a shiver to take her.

A whimper came from between them, Beth knew that she had never felt these sensations before, not even when she lay alone in her room at night, the darkness seeping in around her while her own small hands ran down her body, thinking of the Sheriff. There was something so different about touching herself, then having the surprise of rocking her own clit against his skin.

But she wanted more, she raked her nails across his back, leaning back, curving her spine to thrust her breasts out as an offering to him as they slammed into each other. But it wasn’t until he took the hardened pebble of her nipple into his mouth that she spoke again, this time just like the last, breathless and urgent.

“Bite me.” She murmured, threading the fingers of one hand through his hair, gripping it harshly, mindless with all the feelings bubbling up in her.

“I want it…” Beth panted. “Harder…rougher…”

The house was empty. Always. The only sign it was lived in was the stray T-shirt or jersey, discarded after he'd caught up on the college games and finished playing with Roland. The dog's toys were all neat in a corner. It'd taken up that habit after Jack had taught him to "clean up his mess". It was a trick that'd become a habit. A preface to the command. The kind of learning that made dogs the very best kind of pet. They knew how to please and they sought to do so.

Jack could relate.

How many times had he imagined having Beth against him like this? Countless. The list of fantasies stretched on for miles upon miles, each filthier than the next. That was the dark secret of all men in love, something Disney didn't bother to teach girls as they grew up. Men could love softly. It was true. There was a prince charming in most when it came to the women that took their heart. But men also needed to love roughly. To love hard. It spoke to a darker part of their nature. The primitive things nature inspired to make sure the strong survived.

She tapped into that. Her words. Those commands. Jack felt the way her hands braced on his shoulders to lift her lean body up, her tit dragging across his lips before his mouth finally secured the tight peak of her nipple in the warm wet of his mouth. It pressed against his tongue, defied it. And then he answered her. Sudden and sure. Those white teeth clamping down roughly, tugging on it, pulling until her sounds turned shrill with sparks of pain and brilliant notes of pleasure. He chewed on the sensitive peaks, tormented them. First one, then the other as she offered it.

Her tits were round, soft. Youth wasn't all that kept them lifted. They swayed prettily as she shook against the door, trapped there by his strong hands and the rough stretch of his body. Her eyes wide, darkened and dusky in their want. He wondered what his face looked like. The stern lines in his face drawn by the pleasure of her against him. Did he look as wild as he felt?

She whimpered. It was a wanton sound. But Jack tore his teeth off her nipple anyways, soothed them the only way he could. His tongue, warm and wet, slashing over each to ease the sting of his teeth. The contrast of sensations one he knew well. Her mouth mirrored his efforts against the corded column of his throat, bruising him, marking him.

Claiming a lover went both ways.

"Harder!" He urged him again. This time arching her young body so ferociously off the door they nearly staggered to the otherside of the hall.

He wouldn't deny her.

He let her down, guiding her with his strong hands. She protested, whining girlishly as her feet found the floor. He saw the confusion her features, the momentarily doubt. But no, she'd not been wrong to demand of him. He steered her, turned her round. A mirror of her earlier torment, the way her hands smoothed against the door and her breasts arched toward it. Her back to him, the slender line of her back flairing out to her rounded ass, thrust up toward him.

Jack kicked her ankles apart, spreading her long legs. They ran a trim line from the flawless cheeks of her ass, helping spread them to reveal the pouted pink slit of her pussy. It was framed by her spread thighs and those cheeks, dripping. Well-fucked.

Well. Almost.

His hands took her hips and steadied her, braced her. For a moment he could only hear their breathes, ragged pants. Her own quicker, sharpened by anticipation. She looked back over her shoulder, through a messed curtain of blond, finding his eyes with the green of her own. He waited until they cleared, until the haze of want faded to a more alert scrutiny.

And then he thrust into her.

Every muscle in his body forged into that moment, a brutal assertion of his claim on her. His hips slammed into the cheeks of her ass; filling the hallway with the wet clap of their bodies colliding. His prick was a hot brand inside her, surging into her slick walls, impaling her to the hilt in a smooth instant. As he filled her, stuffed her body with the great girth of his massive cock, she was forced up onto her toes. And the pace began, a brutal cadence, his hips beating against her backside as she arched under his fingers and pushed back against him. Each stroke bottomed out deep inside her, ground the velvet crown of his dick into needy places inside her. Sensitive stretches of silk that made her gush. A spongey softness along her pussy's wet depths that made her entire kitty clench around him.

Relentless. Aware of the tremble in her body, the tightening coil of pleasure beginning to build inside her.

And keenly aware of the heat spreading through his own rippled stomach.

She screamed, straining on her toes and hands gripping the sides of his door’s moldings. Beth felt like she could have splintered it, had it break off in her hands, the orgasm that gripped her was so strong, splintered it as she broke into a thousand pieces. Every wet slap he seemed to be trying to push through her, forcing the young doctor to ride him, Jack’s way or nothing.

Her legs ached as he took her, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, curving around the bones of her hips to urge her on. He was so intense, fiercely determined to drive them both upward, until Beth had no choice but to spiral back down to earth, far away from the heavenly heights he’d been building to.

And it wasn’t soft sighing or pretty panting that brought her there. It was the sounds of her breasts dragging against the slick paint of the door to his room, that same paint being scratched off under her nails, and the rattle of metal against metal as their surface threatened to give way.

It was her calling to him, cheek flattened against the cool door as she turned to the side, eyes closed so tightly against the onslaught of pleasure that seeped into every limb, every crevice and still pulsated like her muscles around him.

The blond gulped her approval, grunted it as he drove her home again. There were no words now; this was primitive and base, as rough as their own Alaska wilderness. Even in her wildest fantasies of Jack, they’d never included anything like this.

Shuttering breaths broke up the silence as she sagged against the door, hands finally dropped to her sides, the heels of her small feet relaxing to keep her firmly rooted on his floor.

And she smiled there, the picture of sated femininity. Her snow white flesh red where he’d gripped her, finger prints all over her body. On shaky legs she moved away, feeling him slip from her body and it left her empty, colder now.

It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize to him then, for starting this. With the passing of her heated feelings, there left explanations to be had. But Beth held them off by opening the door that they’d made love against, stepping into his room that he’d promised when he’d slipped his fingers into her jeans.

It was big, bigger than she’d imagined. A masculine space but clean. She moved to his bed, finally sitting on the edge of it to look up at him. There was no shy hiding, or embarrassment. Beth just raised her hand to brush the mass of blond out of her eyes. She was well loved, lips puffy and pink, eyes dark on him.

She was here, with the Sheriff. How many other women had he had against that door…How well did she really know Jack? Little jealous feeling started to take root in her heart...

Beth gave a small shake of her head, regrets were too little to late. And she knew Jack better than most, she had to remind herself.

“What time is it?” She asked, pivoting on the corner she’d claimed for herself to look around for his clock. Not seeing anything, but a small watch on his nightstand, she moved herself completely on his bed, crawling toward it, across the comforter.

Maybe there was a small part of her that wanted to temp him again. Crawling away from him, bottom in the air, pussy exposed once again for his viewing. Was it a test? A promise?

She stretched to reach for the watch, capturing it but not moving from her pose, Beth took more time than she needed to check the clicking hands of it, even now knowing what sort of picture she put on.

Innocent…sultry…

Beth once again glance at Jack, that smile she’d shared once again on her face.

“Do you like the view?” It was soft, teasing. Not unlike the way she’d joked with him most of their lives.

“Because you look like you can’t decide what you want to do.” The Doctor hinted, picking up one hand that balanced her on the bed, and cupping her own breast, the hard little nub of her nipple, playing under her fingers.

“Or maybe you can’t decide on what you want me to do?”

She'd pulled from him, left his hard length to slip from the grasp of her clenching depths with a wet flop. The length of it smacking against her round ass cheek, leaving a streak of her cream on the pale skin. He saw that streak now in the light of his bedroom, a slick mark where his massive length had left the wet of her pussy on her backside. His eyes walked over her body, that flawless and tightly feminine length of long legs and round hips. Her full breasts filled her hand, pink nipple tight against her fingers as she teased it.

And her hair. Christ, her hair. That soft gold spooling down to frame her pretty face, accenting gently the kiss-bruised pout of her lips.

Was it wrong to take her so roughly? It didn't feel it. It'd come so naturally he'd hardly realized just how rough he'd been with her until she'd pulled from him, escaped the hard surface of the door and drew them into the safer confines of his bed. Jack let his eyes drift from hers then, reluctantly, to the bruises along the arch of her hips. The marks of his fingers distinct against the pale, cream-colored skin. This was the woman he'd loved, secretly, for years. The woman he'd sought to look after, to protect, to favor. To see the dark bruises on her hips sobered him some, brought him back to the reality of the moment and what'd happened.

But it could not stay his want for her.

Even as conflict surged through him Jack saw her pussy through the frame of her thighs. It's puffy petals dripping with the cream of her cum, reminding him of the silken fire of her body around him. The length that'd been pounding so roughly into her tight walls gave a twitch, alerting his eyes to it. The velvet crown a blushed, angry violet and the thick shaft corded with powerful veins. His skin was slick, the base covered with a frothy cream from when she'd cum hard against him. But his balls were still tight, smooth, drawn up into his body. Coiled, potent and waiting. He hadn't cum with her. The ache, the need to, seemed to come ferociously when he looked at himself.

The Sheriff reached for Beth, found her slender ankle and used it to pull her back toward him. She flopped onto her smooth belly, her breasts crushed into the soft coverlet of the bed, her pussy briefly concealed as her body stretched out infront of him.

"I want..." He started to say. Catching the heat in his voice, the husky rumble betraying just how badly he -did- want.

He couldn't finish. There were too many things, too many desires ripping through his head. They blotted out hesitations and concerns, smothered the softer affections stirring in him. He loved Beth. He'd seen in his mind his chance to be the man she called her own and this place to be a home. But those thoughts seemed so far now with her stretched out before him with a cheshire grin on her full lips. This wasn't the kind of woman he'd make his wife.

This was the kind of woman that he'd make his slut.

The boldness of that thought provoked his dick to give a sudden, lively twitch. A thick drop of precum rolled from the slit at its tip, unable to hang there under its great weight. It fell, splashing the back of her thigh, leaving a pearly dollop on her skin.

Jack watched it before lashing out, sharp and sure. The hand on her ankle tightening as his other arced down to firmly, roughly smack the soft round of her ass cheek.

-CRACK-

The sound sudden in the room, his hand leaving an angry red blush to rise on the pale skin of her ass. Their eyes locking, Jack saw past Beth's surprise, saw the tumult of feeling lingering beyond and the way her green eyes darkened with want on his face. More precum fell from his prick, heavy droplets splattering the back of her thigh like wax, wet and hot as he loomed over her. His hand lifted, waiting.

"I want you to present that ass to me."