Hooked on You: An Annapolis Harbor Series Prequel, Lea Coll [love letters to the dead .txt] 📗

could tug my briefs and pants down. My cock popped out of my briefs at attention. She fisted my cock before kissing the tip of it lightly, a teasing glint in her eyes.

“No teasing.”

“I’m not teasing. I’m giving you exactly what you want.”

I couldn’t argue because she was right. Taylor on her knees in between my legs working my cock with her fingers and her tongue. It was heaven. When she finally sucked my cock into her mouth my head fell back.

That’s when she allowed my cock to pop from her mouth. “Eyes on me.”

I slowly opened my eyes and watched as she took me back into her pretty mouth. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to see her body. I wanted to be inside her. “Enough,” I said hauling her up and into my lap. Thankfully she wore a skirt, so I pushed her panties to the side to find her dripping wet for me. “You’re soaking from sucking my cock.”

“Uh huh,” she said her head falling back as she poised herself over my cock and slowly slid down inch by inch. I couldn’t take my eyes off the spot where we were joined. When I was balls deep inside her I palmed her breasts. She was frantically riding my cock now, her moans quickly driving me over the edge.

I circled her clit with my finger and watched her go over the edge with a high-pitched moan. She’d never been so vocal during sex before and I loved it. I tightly gripped her hips taking over for her. I thrust into her a few times hard before emptying myself inside like I’d wanted to do when I first realized I loved her.

With her face in my shoulder and her body slumped over mine, I circled my arms around her and brought her in close. “I love you,” I whispered into her ear.

“I love you too.”

I’d never been so happy—not like this.

Chapter Twenty-Four

TAYLOR

That afternoon at work, I quickly came down from the high of being with Gabe, reviewing the case file for an appointment with the social worker who’d interviewed the victims. The sick feeling in my stomach intensified with each picture I viewed. The man had videotaped and photographed multiple children. As many times as I read similar scenarios, I’d never got used to it.

“Taylor?” my secretary, Heather, asked, standing at the door with the social worker.

I stood. “Yes.”

“Your three o’clock is here.” She stepped inside my door and a woman followed. “Angela Bynes.”

Walking to the door, I held my hand out to the woman who looked to be in her forties, gray suit, heels, and shoulder-length brown hair. “Nice to meet you. I’m Taylor Leeds.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” Angela said looking around my office.

Heather returned to her desk outside my office.

“Have a seat.” I gestured to the chairs in front of my desk.

Once seated, Angela pulled her file out of her briefcase.

“How long have you worked in family services?”

“Oh, twenty years now.”

“Do you ever get used to it?” I studied her as she opened the file and rifled through her papers.

Her eyes lifted from her file.

“These cases—” I pointed to the file and the stack on the side of my desk.

She shook her head slowly. “You don’t get used to it and I guess that’s a good thing. If I didn’t feel for these kids—I wouldn’t fight as hard.”

Being a social worker as long as she had, she’d seen far worse things than me. I didn’t know how she did it. I suppressed a shiver, trying to be professional. “Let’s discuss the Hayes file.”

“I’ll discuss my process and then you can ask any questions you want.”

I took a deep breath. I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to hear what she had to say. “Okay.”

She proceeded to talk for about forty-five minutes, outlining each interview she’d done with the children—how they’d been reluctant to talk and her methods to draw information out without leading them in their answers. By the time she fell silent, I knew she was good at what she did. She was patient and thorough. She had to be to ensure the children felt safe enough to reveal the information they did.

This would be my first trial and I wanted to get it right. I wanted to make a good impression. I wanted to prove to Dean I was more than a referral from a good friend, that he’d made the right decision in hiring me. And I wanted justice for these kids as much as Angela did. The better prepared we were, the better case we’d present, and the more likely the defendant would plead or be found guilty.

Our confrontation with Lizzie was still fresh in my mind. Was there something else I could do to help Zach and Lizzie? Since Angela was so experienced would she have some insight? I knew Gabe didn’t want me to talk to anyone but if it was to get advice about what to do, surely that would be helpful. “Can I ask you a question? It’s not about this.” I gestured at my desk. “But a child I’m concerned about?”

Her eyes wary, she said, “Sure.”

“A mother is pressuring her teen to quit school when he turns sixteen. She works evenings allegedly as a waitress, but I don’t know for sure. What I know is that the teen is hungry. There’s rarely food in the fridge and he relies on free meals at school. I know this isn’t what you normally handle, but do you know what help there is out there for the mother or the teen? Can she make him quit school?”

“She can apply for food assistance if she hasn’t already. There’s housing help too.”

“I’m helping her fill out the forms since she’s illiterate and I want to make sure I’m not overlooking anything that’s available to her.”

“I have a checklist for you.” She rifled through her briefcase and pulled out a form. “I carry this with me because I frequently