by Forgy, M. N.
She’s not like the girls around the club. She dresses sexy, but not slutty. She’s confident, but vulnerable. All the girls I’ve known are just conceited. Most of all, she is hell-bent on hurting me, instead of pleasing me. Putting it all out there… I want what I can’t have.
Chapter 7
Jillian
I head back to my squad car and get in. My eyes sting with the urge to cry, and my stomach feels sick. I thought I was doing the right thing, doing my job. I pushed my lust aside, going forth with what I was taught growing up. Put away the bad guys, don’t let the bad guys in your head, keep the community safe. But now, I’m questioning all of it. Slamming the car in reverse, I pull out hastily and drive. Maybe I should hunt. Hunting always gets my mind off things. ‘Hunting’ is a term we use when we just go find those who screw up right in front of us. We run random plates, waiting for someone to turn lanes without a turn signal, or someone who’s acting suspicious. Half of those small infractions have led to some of the most exciting pursuits, and the biggest busts.
Turning down the road, I spot a motorcycle and a Sin City Outlaw patch staring back at me. The long, leather whips hanging off the handlebars tells me it’s Zeek.
THEY RELEASED HIM?!
I get behind him and flip my lights on. He looks in his rearview mirror and pulls over. Skidding to a halt, I get out before my car is barely in park.
“You!” I point, anger pouring out of me. Humiliation, rage, confusion all cloud my mind.
“I told you I’d be out.” He shrugs, putting his bike on its kickstand before climbing off.
“You’re an asshole!” I shout. I grab his shirt and push him hard, all fear of what he could do to me gone.
His eyes widen, jaw clenching as he stumbles back.
“You better watch it, little one,” he warns, his words pissing me off more. The term of belittlement throws me over the edge.
“Or what? You’ll kill me, bury me with the rest of your victims?” I push him again, and he steps backward.
His chest rises as he looks down at me, his nostrils flaring.
Balling my fist, I blow a frustrated breath. I am unraveling.
“You’re such a –” I growl and turn to leave, my emotions getting the best of me.
“Hey, wait a minute.” He grabs my arm, and I swing around furious. My moment of trying to be the bigger person and walk away is gone.
“Don’t touch me!”
Grabbing onto his shirt with both hands, I shove him hard. Not letting go, I push him onto the hood of my car.
“I hate you! You’re such a prick!” My breathing picks up, my face turning red. “I—”
“Say it! Say you want me!” he hollers in my face, veins protruding from his forehead.
“No.” The word comes out eerily calm, my teeth clenched.
“You’re a liar. Why else would you be so upset? Because you can’t take me down? Maybe. But I think you’re really upset because you want me, and you can’t have me. Admit it.”
“That is not it.” My brows rise to ridiculous levels, my head shaking like a bobble head.
“I hate you, and—”
“You want me,” he whispers. “You want my mouth all over you, and my cock inside of you.”
“Damn you!” I scream in frustration. “Yes, I want you! Happy? DOES THAT MAKE THIS SITUATION ANY BETTER? Is it easier for you to know that I do, in fact, want you?” My anger has me so flustered that I finally gave in to the realization that I do want him, spilling my pent-up emotions. Yes, I want him, and I can’t have him. It pisses me off. I can’t put him behind bars, and I can’t have him in my bed.
His hands grab onto mine and before I know it, he’s turned us, him on top of me on the hood of my car on the side of the road.
“You think I asked for this? You think it’s any easier for me? You think I haven’t thought about your sweet mouth since that night? ‘Cause I have, and just fucking thinking about you can get me killed!” He shouts so loud my ears ring, his nose almost touching mine. His face is red, the vessels popping out on his forehead once again. “I told you to tell me no that night, to walk away. But you didn’t. You were stupid. ”
A scream lodges in my throat, full of pure rage, and my hands grip his face, I want to kiss him, yet claw him all at the same time. To hear that he wants me just as bad has me teetering on the edge of giving in to my arousal, screw the consequences.
His head lowers but stops inches from mine, his mind battling his own demons. “And now, we’re both fucked.” He smashes his lips against mine and I sigh into him, my mouth finally receiving what it’s been begging for since that night.
My leg swings around him, pulling him closer, and his hand slides down my thigh, hooking under my leg. The trail of his palm causes me to arch my body in to him. I’m on fire, my lungs screaming for air, but I can’t pull away.
“Why did you save me? Why are you protecting me?” I pant against his lips.
“Because you need to be protected,” he professes.
Grabbing onto his shirt, I roll us, landing on the road with a hard fall. Our new position conceals us from the cars passing on the highway. His arms are flexed, one holding him up and covered in dirt with broken pieces of concrete from our fall.
“I don’t want to hear that bullshit. Tell me why!”
Grabbing the lapels of my uniform shirt, he pulls me within inches of his face.
“Because you can trust me, goddamn it,” he seethes. “I want you, and because of that I feel the need to protect you at the same time.” His eyes flash with panic, like he didn’t think before he talked. My mouth hangs open, a small croak escaping my lips.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t fight this game of right and wrong. I want to feel him beneath my palms, have his rough touch on my skin.
Closing the gap, he presses his mouth to mine so hard, my lips bruise. His eyes are closed, his trust in me misplaced. Can he trust me? Should I trust him?
“Besides, the pull we have on one another is out of our control, Jillian. To act otherwise is just a waste of time.” The way he says my name should be a sin. The way it rolls of his tongue with such an edge, but sweeps through his lips like silk. The reaction my body has to it is unbearable. Come to think of it, how does he know my first name?
“How do you know my first name?” I whisper all breathy like, clearly showing how affected I am by him.
He smirks, his hair falling into his face. “Does it matter?” Biting my bottom lip I shake my head, my eyes sweeping across his face without shame.
“One of the deputies said it.” He smiles a toothy grin that is downright fucking sexy, the sun shining within those dark eyes.
I’ve tried to look the other way, tried to ignore the wetness in my panties when I’m around him… but in the end, it’s always there. Lust. Desire. Countless thoughts and reenactments of how he took my mouth furiously.
My brows narrow in determination and I return the kiss, my tongue diving into his mouth, licking and tasting him to memory. I tug on his shirt; I desperately want it off and to feel his chest.
He pulls my shirt out of my pants, and my stomach trembles. He stops when he realizes I have a bulletproof vest on. I suddenly feel like I’m suffocating and want the damn thing off. I want to feel his touch; the urge has me frantic, panting like a mad woman.
His fingers trail under my belt, skimming lower and lower. Before I can even process what we’re doing, his hands dart down my pants and my stomach falls, my body tensing. My panties are instantly wet with my arousal, and my nipples perk with anticipation.
His large fingers slowly trail along the elastic of my panties then feather downward at an agonizingly slow pace. His mouth is parted, his eyes studying my face. Nerves build in my stomach, sweat beading on my chest as his finger skims along my clit. A soft mewl escapes my mouth. His eyes widens in reaction, his tongue tracing his bottom lip.
The rough pads of his fingers slip in-between my lips, spreading my wetness around. The
feeling of him touching me is beyond words. All I know is I want more. I don’t think I’ve ever been so ready to go further with a man in my whole life.
Dipping down, he kisses me hard, his tongue meeting mine in a dance of addicting chaos. I bite at his bottom lip then kiss it, not wanting him to pull away. A finger presses against my opening and warmth builds suddenly, making my body tense. I grab his strong shoulders, and I can’t help but span them out, wanting to feel all of him. He looks built, feels hard against my palms, and I desperately want to see if it’s true.
He slowly presses inside my sex, his large index finger stretching me, and pleasure intensifies to a point I’ve never felt before. My jaw falls lax, and my cheeks flush. I’ve gone years trying to get myself off, only to end up frustrated and unsatisfied. Yet here I am on the side of the road, about to explode any second under Zeek’s fingertips.
“You’re wet as hell,” he whispers. His words, the softness in them makes me close my eyes, stars bursting behind them. Holding my breath, my body comes alive, every nerve ending firing with tingles and pleasure. I can’t hold it all in; I moan a small cry, my body withering beneath him as I combust at his fingertips.
He nips my bottom lip harshly, tugging it with his teeth as he slowly pulls his wet finger from me. Opening my eyes, I find him sticking his fingers in his mouth, tasting me.
He stands up and I follow, my hair full of dirt and my uniform disheveled.
Placing both my hands on my squad car, I pant for air. Realization slams forward—I just had my first orgasm. Guilt suddenly wracks my brain with the impulsiveness I just reacted on. I’ve never been fingered before, and I just came for the first time, all by a notorious outlaw on the side of a road.
“I—” I pause, not sure what to say to him. I liked it, but I shouldn’t have. I want more, but know it’s forbidden. Not just for me, but for him, too.
“See you around, Rookie!” he hollers. My eyes snap from the hood of my car to him, finding him climbing on the back of his bike and taking off.
* * *
Finally home, I take my bra off and sigh loudly. You think wearing a bra all day is bad, try having a bulletproof vest on top of that. I change my panties—because, well, Zeek ruined those—and slip on my gray capris sweatpants and a peach tank top. Washing my face of my makeup, I let my hair down. I need a shower, but the scent of him lingers on my skin, and a piece of me wants to smell it.
I try not to think of that notion too much.
Curling into myself on my couch, I turn on the TV, and Jinx pads his little feet across the floor before jumping into my lap.
“Hey, buddy, did you miss me?” I scratch under his chin where a little patch of gray sits, and he begins to purr. Thunder booms, and the lights flicker. Both Jinx and I look up at the ceiling. It’s not often we get storms here and I love them. I hope it sticks around.
My phone starts dinging like crazy on the side table, catching my attention. Opening it, I find two missed texts from Alessandra.
I’m so sorry. - A
I had no choice. -A
Furrowing my brows, I write her back.
What are you talking about? - J
Zeek. He cornered me outside The Big Blue restaurant and asked me for your number. I said no at first, but then he did this intense eyebrow thing so… I gave it to him. He’ll be calling you soon. -A
WTF!!?? -J
My heart beats hard against my chest. It’s already bad enough that he knows where I live, but now he has my number? If he texts me, there is no way I can ignore it for very long.
I know, I’m the worst best friend ever. Oh, he also threatened me that if I told anyone, he’d find me. It was pretty hot! -A
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
A text from an unknown number dings. My eyes widen, knowing it’s him.
We need to talk. I’m coming by. It’s not a request. - Unknown
I wince. No, that is not a good idea at all. What could he possibly have to say? I bet he wants to finish what we started earlier, or at the very least talk about it. Does he regret it?
No, you can’t stop by. What do you need to talk about? - J
That’s why I want to come by. I don’t do the phone thing. - Z
I smirk. I don’t think any man likes to talk on the phone.
I would rather meet you somewhere. - J
Us by ourselves is only going to end up one way, that’s for sure. Our bodies seem to have a mind of their own when they’re near each other. A spell-binding lust neither of us can explain nor break.
Yeah, that’s a smart idea. Let’s meet where everyone can see us together. - Z
He’s being sarcastic. What an asshole. He has a point, though. Being together in public is not a good idea. Someone could see us, and I could lose my job. Who knows what his men would do to him. This whole thing is just ridiculous.
No. There is nothing to say. - J
A loud knock sounds at my door. I freeze. Panic rushing through my system like the Nile. Stepping up to the door, I look through the peephole. Zeek’s intense brown eyes look right back at me.
“Open the door.” His voice is low and husky.
Glancing down, my comfy clothes stare back at me. I’m really dressed down. Shit. Jinx purrs, rubbing against my legs.
“What do I do?” I whisper to him. Why am I talking to my cat? Jinx meows and hops back on the couch, sprawling out. Clearly not affected that some hot man who happens to be a notorious outlaw is knocking at our door. The fact that I cannot contain my attraction for him and rationalize around him is clearly not of any concern to my cat.
“Open up, Jillian!” Zeek booms from the other side of the door. My eyes shoot to the door, my heartbeat not slowing any. Not having a choice, I unlock it.
The smell of him hits me first. That leather, exhaust, and spicy cologne scent. It’s dangerous, and intoxicating. I inhale it with a deep breath before opening the door further. He’s wearing a leather jacket with a distressed white Levi shirt underneath, dark blue jeans hanging off his hips precariously. He chuckles. Realizing I’m eyeballing him without shame, I tear my gaze from his incredibly toned body to his face. He smirks knowingly and hands me a rectangular box.
“What’s this?”
“Can I come in?” He ignores my question, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Taking my gaze off the box, his dark eyes meet mine and my stomach does that flip-floppy thing.
“Um, yeah. Sorry.” I move aside, letting him in. Before shutting the door, I peer out, making sure nobody saw him, and I notice his bike is not parked out front.
“Where did you park?” I shut the door and turn, finding him glancing around my house curiously. He looks so big in my home, his large frame taking up so much space.
“Around the corner.” He doesn’t look at me when he replies, his eyes taking everything in. It’s a mess in here; a cereal box sits on the coffee table, and my bra is hanging off the back of the couch.
“Okay,” I respond, not really sure what else to say. I can imagine Mrs. Bennett peering out her window with a look of horror at the motorcycle parked in front of her house. She reminds me of the old lady from the movie Lake Placid. She looks innocent, but something tells me if you piss her off she’d feed you to the alligators quickly.
Setting the box down that Zeek gave me, I lift the corner to peek inside and find a bunch of assorted donuts. Sprinkles, glazed, icing—you name it.
“Really? You got me donuts?” I arch a brow, dropping the lid.
He turns, a mischievous smile fitting his face.
“Don’t all cops like donuts?” he jeers. I roll my eyes, placing my hand on my hip.
“That’s so stereotypical,” I huff.
“Oh, really?” he replies, grabbing the box off the table, a smug smile still on his face.
“I’ll get rid of them then.”
“No, wait!” I nearly trip over my feet trying to grab the box of donuts. He holds them higher than me and smiles so big I think I see t
wo dimples. Really, he’s pulling the notorious bully move holding them just above my reach? Why am I attracted to him again?
“I thought you didn’t like them,” he taunts.
“I do like them. A lot, actually.” I cross my arms, my cheeks flushing. My dad used to always take me to the local bakery to get donuts on the weekends. I would get whatever I wanted—usually anything with sprinkles—and we would drop the rest off at the department. What can I say, embrace your stereotypes.
“So, it’s true. Cops love donuts,” he states arrogantly, setting the box back down.
“I mean, I don’t know if all cops like donuts, but if a guy shows up at my door with them… I wouldn’t turn him away.” I laugh, opening the lid. I grab one with rainbow sprinkles, the ooey goodness sticking to my finger. I lick it off.
“Hmm. I’ll have to remember that.” His voice comes out low and sexual. I stop mid-lick, my eyes flicking to his. Shit, if I have any hopes of keeping this PG, I better stop slowly licking my finger like a dumbass and making suggestive comments.
Clearing my throat, I set the donut down and wipe my hands on my sweatpants.
“I like what you’re wearing.” Zeek gestures his fingers up and down my body, stopping at my chest. Which reminds me I’m not wearing a bra. Looking down, my nipples are hard as can be, and are sticking through my top. My breasts literally ache to be grabbed by him again. I quickly cross my arms to cover them and shift on my feet. I swear tits have a mind of their own. They’re like a horny seventeen-year-old who defies anything you tell them.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to bite, Rookie.” He steps around the table, his eyes cruising over the pictures of Jinx and I, and my distressed country decorations I collect. “That is unless you want me to.” His eyes shoot to mine, and my nipples get harder. “Something tells me you want me to bite you.”
“I… um…” It’s happening again. He’s making me lose my train of thought. My bravado fails, my lady parts wanting to do the talking. Guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders as realization bites at my conscious that I want Zeek to touch me. I want his rough touch, and hard eyes solely on me. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?