“Officer Carlisle, how fast was I going?”
“Thirty miles over the speed limit, Miss.”
My smile falters for a second. Thirty miles over. Was I going that fast? I swallow, trying to recover my cool, and lean closer. “Allyson, please. I like it when you call me Allyson.”
I run my hand down his arm. His skin is hot and his muscles flex under my touch. I gaze up into his face and it’s still like stone, but his eyes seem to twinkle. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Rugged looking with something so cold about him that it makes me want to warm him right up.
I look down at where his gun and cuffs are stored at his waist and feel a rush of heat between my legs. My hand wants to reach out and touch that cool metal. I know what those handcuffs would feel like wrapped around the tender flesh and bone of my wrists. I shake my head and blink again at my own stupidity.
Is this all it takes to make me forget my resolve?
Men are trouble, whichever way you look at it, but here I am thinking about what Officer Carlisle would look like if his lips curled into a smile. I want to make his eyes twinkle again.
“Very well, Allyson, have you been drinking tonight?” He seems to lean in closer, maybe to see if he can smell alcohol on my breath.
“Of course not.” I stop myself from shaking my head. Too much denial will only increase his suspicions and except for that one drink when I first arrived at the party, everything else I’d had was soft. If I tell him about that drink, though, he might make me take a Breathalyzer, or walk a straight line. What if he takes me into the station anyway? Panic threatens to grip me again and I suddenly wish someone would drive by. Any kind of distraction would be good right now. I shove the panic down and take another deep breath, put my hand on my hip and smile at him.
“Really? Nothing.” He definitely doesn’t believe me.
“Technically not nothing. I had water at the party.”
“I see. Very sensible. You were at a party? By yourself?”
“My friends were there. I had to leave.”
No point telling him why I left just when the party was in full swing. I suspect he doesn’t care why I was speeding and no amount of excuses would help me. If I can’t even get him to smile with my flirting, I see an expensive ticket in my future. A ticket I can’t afford right now.
“I’m going to have to ask you to face the car and put your hands on the hood, legs slightly apart.”
His voice is so calm but there’s a rough edge that makes his instruction sound more exciting that it should. I’ve often wondered if other women think about sex as much as I do. Ordinary situations shouldn’t play out in my mind like porn, but they do. Often.
I’m all in with the flirting now. It feels like my only hope. “Sounds exciting, Officer. What are you looking for exactly?”
“Offensive weapons.”
I almost laugh out loud. My dress is skin tight so it’s quite obvious I’m not concealing anything. The only weapon I have is the hungry kitty between my legs that wants to eat him all up. Positive I will be taken to the station for confessing something like that, I keep my mouth shut and assume the position. The anticipation of that first touch sends a tingle of awareness through me. I’m trembling now but not from fear or panic, but all out raging lust. The cool night air licks the inside of my thighs.
“You really think a harmless girl like me would have a weapon, Officer Carlisle?”
“We can never be too careful, Allyson.”
I love the way he says my name, low and smooth with a little edge of huskiness. I glance over my shoulder to smile at him. His lips twitch again with the hint of amusement but it never fully emerges. I resist the urge to shake my ass in his face when he bends down to start with my ankles.
Strong, rough palms touch the bare skin just above my shoes and slide up slowly. Tantalizingly slowly. He moves higher, taking his time over my calves. Then higher, his hands disappearing under my skirt to feel my thighs. I can’t help it. I let out a low moan and then bite my lip, hoping he hasn’t heard me. He pauses for a split second then continues his weapons check, otherwise known as the hottest foreplay I have ever experienced.
This is totally not necessary, in any shape or form. Who carries weapons under their skin? Officer Carlisle is having some fun at my expense, and I guess I’m having some fun at his.
He withdraws his hands and stands up, placing them on my hips. I find myself drifting back slightly as though he were magnetized. He whisks his hands up my sides, barely missing my breasts. Disappointment races through me, as my body comes alive with the anticipation of how much further this could go. The heat from his body seems to radiate into me. He’s close, closer than he probably should be for a routine traffic stop that is feeling anything but. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be doing this if I was a fifty-year-old dude.
If I leaned back a fraction, then I’d make contact with his broad chest. I could rest there, close my eyes and forget my troubles.
As if he knows what I’m thinking he steps back and cool air rushes between us. I shiver.
“You can turn around now,” he says gruffly. It’s the only indication that what’s happening between us might be getting to him too.
I turn slowly like I’m dancing just for him. I flash him a smile and stand straighter. Part of me doesn’t want him to know how much he’s affecting me, and the other half knows I need to use my assets as much as I can. When I push my boobs out even more, Officer Carlisle’s gaze flicks to my breasts and I smile with satisfaction. Just that little look feels like a victory.
I don’t think I’ve ever found a face so fascinating. The more I study his angular cheekbones and full lips that seem to be fixed permanently into a serious line, the more I want to look.
I lean in closer to him to give him a better view down my dress. “Am I free to go?”
“Sorry, Miss. I’m going to need you to walk the line.” He points to the solid line on the side of the road, not sounding sorry at all. In fact, he sounds a little bit pleased with himself, as though this is part two of his repertoire of ways to check me out. First, he gets the feels, now he’s after a good look at my ass.
I know I can do this because I’m sober as a judge, but it feels humiliating. Still, I don’t want to let him see my reluctance. “I’ll walk anything for you,” I say, tossing him a grin over my shoulder as I step over to the line. “Any particular way you want me to walk it?”
“Straight,” he says with no hint of amusement.
I put one foot in front of the other, swaying my hips as I go.
“Toe to toe, please.”
I turn around and frown at him and he shrugs but his lips twitch again.
“Fine,” I say, sounding as pissed as I am.
I walk toe to toe and after a few feet, I turn around. “Shall I touch my finger to my nose now?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he says condescendingly.
Now that the test is over I sway my hips as I walk back to him, taking up a relaxed position, leaning against my car. If this was a different day and he wasn’t a cop I’d be so damn tempted to hook one of my legs around his and pull him in closer. I bet he’d be a great kisser. Those lips look so soft.
“What else can I do for you, Officer?” I ask.
My meaning is clear and his eyes seem to flash with desire for just a second. His mouth turns up into the smallest grin I’ve ever seen and I wonder how many women flirt with him when he pulls them over. Even if I’d done nothing wrong and wasn’t trying to get out of a ticket I’d be tempted to flirt like crazy with him.
“I think that will be all for tonight.”
He opens my door for me and I slide into the driver’s seat as gracefully as possible. When my legs are safely inside he closes the door and leans in the window.
“I’ll let you off with a warning tonight.”
Relief washes over me. “No ticket?”
“No ticket. But don’t speed again, Allyson. I’d hate to have to take you in.�
�
“I promise,” I say and on the spur of the moment I kiss the tips of my fingers and press them to his lips. It’s like touching a statue. Even that isn’t enough to make him smile. “You be good, now,” he says and turns to head back to his car. I watch him walking away in my side mirror. There’s that swagger again that I know I won’t forget. It’s a swagger that makes me want to be bad, not good.
2
ALLYSON
The house is dark as I navigate my way upstairs. I don’t turn on the hall light in case my mother’s door is open. I think she’s home and I don’t want to wake her and endure questions that I’m not in any fit state to answer right now.
My legs are still trembling.
I tiptoe past my mother’s room and hurry through my nightly ritual. I’m so glad to be home after what happened. Going back to my dorm room just didn’t feel right, but I don’t want to think about the reasons why.
I allow thoughts of Officer Carlisle to fill my mind. The memory of the traffic stop makes my hands shake as I brush my teeth. Things could have gone so much worse if Officer Carlisle had been stricter. Thinking about it, things could have gone so much better if I’d been bolder and Officer Carlisle had been a dirtier cop. Trust me to find the only good one in town.
He might be a good cop, but he looked like a bad boy. I saw the edges of the tattoo he has around his bicep. Maybe he has more hidden under his uniform.
I imagine him in casual clothes; jeans and a t-shirt that would show off his great physique. I’m grateful for the distraction he’s provided me. I need other things to think about that don’t make my palms sweat with panic.
I make my way to my childhood bedroom. Mom always keeps it clean and tidy, the sheets and comforter freshly washed. She knows I like to come home when I can. I sit on the bed to take off my heels and then stand to slip off my dress. As it drops to the floor I remember the way Officer Carlisle’s hands felt against my skin; big, rough, capable. My nipples perk up as the material of the dress grazes them. My bad boy cop had been careful to avoid the best bits when he was frisking me, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering what his hands would have felt like on my breasts. Those large rough palms squeezing and bringing my nipples into hard peaks with a flick of a thumb.
I hang the dress in the closet, take off my makeup, and look for a pair of pajamas. The blue silk ones will feel good against my skin so I pull those on, turn my bedroom light off and fold the blankets down on my bed.
The house is completely quiet. So quiet my own breathing sounds loud in the darkness. In the silence, my thoughts drift back to the party. The memories are dark and the reality of my situation so dreadful that my heart picks up its pace in a flash. What have I gotten myself into? So stupid. So careless. I should have learned my lesson a long time ago.
Men can’t be trusted to protect you.
They only care about you when it suits them, and then they turn on you. A flash of a cold night, many years ago, comes into my mind. A dark looming man with a contorted face stands over my mom, one hand around her neck, the other balled into a fist at his side.
I take a deep breath and hold it, trying to regain control of myself. I’m weighed down by ghosts of the past and present and my fears for how they will impact my future. The burden of it all feels so heavy.
When I was little my mom told me that how I feel is my choice. She said if I let my worries grow in my mind, they’ll become too big to deal with. She taught me to imagine a box, open a lid, put my worries inside and close the lid. I had a lot of worries after that big man left us alone.
I do it now, heaping everything that happened at the party tonight and trying to seal it away. There’s a part of me that’s always doubted how healthy it is to do this. I know that therapists want their patients to talk about their troubles and, by doing so, accept the reality of their situation.
But I can’t.
I just can’t.
The silly glow-in-the-dark stars that I fastened to my bedroom ceiling when I was about nine shine down on me and I focus on the smallest one. I think about the assignment I’m working on and plan it out a little in my head, but the distraction doesn’t keep the top of the box in place. I see a flash of Drew’s face in my mind, my father’s closed fist, the fear in my mom’s eyes, and have to shake my head vigorously to displace it all.
I think about Officer Carlisle’s serious mouth and eyes that shone with something that I couldn’t seem to determine. I was so brazen with him and it’s not like me to put myself out there like that. I think about why I was different tonight. I was on edge for sure, and in a tight situation, but that isn’t everything. It was him.
The man was hotter than fire.
I momentarily feel guilty for my attempts to manipulate him. Using my womanly attributes seems cheap now that I’m alone in my bed. It was worth it, though, to avoid a ticket.
Sad that I’ll probably never see him again, I lay, waiting for sleep to claim me, but every time I let my mind drift it goes to unpleasant places. I focus on the memory of Officer Carlisle’s hands on me again. I close my eyes and think about him because the alternative is too dark and scary. While the touch of his hands on my legs was moan inducing, I would have liked more than the light caress he gave me. I would have liked to see more than the slight twitch of his lips into an almost grin. I’d love to know what he’d be capable of if he would just let out the bad boy that I thought I saw in his eyes.
I start to fantasize, letting my mind return to the place at the side of the road. I see myself facing my car as instructed with my hands pressed against the roof. Officer Carlisle is behind me running his hands up the outside of my legs tantalizingly slow. Every inch of my skin that he touches comes alive. Heat rushes to the spot and a shiver races up my body. I ache between my legs so badly, but this time, instead of maintaining his professionalism, he allows his thumbs to brush over my panties. My knees feel close to buckling, the cool air caressing between them a contrast to his hot fingers. I stiffen, not sure what to do, or what to say? Surely an officer of the law wouldn’t be so bold at a routine traffic stop.
“You like that, don’t you?” he mutters. “You want me to push a finger into that tight pussy.”
“No, Officer,” I say. “I don’t want that.” The words sound hollow, and I don’t move away.
“You can’t fool me.” His breath is hot on the back of my thigh. He’s so close I’m sure he must be able to smell how aroused I am.
“Honestly, I don’t like it. You can’t do that.” I pretend to look around frantically for help.
“You’re lying, Allyson. I can feel your heat and I can smell how much you want it. I can take you right here and no one will stop me.”
God, his voice. The rough tone of it combined with a hint of desperation. He sounds close to losing control and it turns me on so much. I don’t want him to know, though. I pretend I don’t want the things that he’s saying. I pull away slightly to force him to move closer. He caresses me again and I shiver, biting my lip to stop a moan from escaping.
“Please stop, Officer Carlisle. I won’t speed again. I promise.”
He stands up behind me, so tall and broad his presence is like a wall at my back. He chuckles in my ear, his hot breath sending another shiver through me.
“Why should I stop? You want this. You want me. If you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t have been speeding along this stretch of road.”
“I didn’t mean to be speeding. Please don’t do this.” I lean back ever so slightly to be closer to him. My pussy throbs for attention, the teasing caresses driving me crazy.
“You still need to be taught a lesson.” He strokes my thighs once more and I hear him chuckle when I tremble.
“You’re scaring me.” I say, my voice breathless.
“You should be scared. I’m checking for weapons and I know you’ve got something bad here.” He grips my thighs to pull my legs apart even more. I lean into the car, my hands still splayed on the roof. “I know you’
re hot for me, Allyson. I can tell when I do this.” He runs a finger up my thigh until he’s almost touching my pussy.
My thighs quiver and my pussy is wet with wanting. My whole body is alight with longing. I ache to be filled, hoping he’ll follow through with the taunts. The heat from his body seeps into my back blocking out a cool night breeze.
“Officer, please, don’t touch me like that.”
“Like what? This?” He trails a finger along my thigh just below my pussy. The teasing gesture makes my pussy hunger for him even more.
He’s in no hurry, despite how exposed we are. His finger slowly strokes along the seam of my panties, nudging them to the side in such tiny increments that I almost don’t notice what he’s doing until I’m fully exposed. He slips that same finger through the soft fold of my pussy, parting everything so explicitly that my legs almost give way. When he finally pushes his finger deep inside me, I suck in a noisy and desperate sounding breath. Oh god, it feels so good. It shouldn’t but it does.
I bite my lip to keep from moaning, to keep the charade of my resistance going.
“You’re so wet, Allyson. Wet for me?”
“No, not for you.”
He plunges his finger in deeper, sliding in easily because I’m so slick.
“I can tell you want me, Allyson.” He fingers me faster and despite myself, I lower my hips to take him.
“No, I don’t want you.”
The lie falls from my lips easily because I know he won’t listen. He won’t stop what he’s doing. He’ll keep probing inside me, violating me, just the way I like it. He pushes a second finger into me, stretching my walls. I bite back a groan, force myself not to bend my legs to drive his fingers further inside me.
“Yes, you do.”
The rasp of his zipper makes my eyes flutter closed. I tremble again, waiting for his next move, knowing what it will be and eager to have his cock between my legs.
“I’m big, Allyson, but I know you can take me. I’m going to force you to open you right up.” He almost growls the words and a real shiver of fear runs through me. If he’s as big as I imagine, maybe it’ll hurt.
HUGE X3: A MFMM Menage Stepbrother Romance Page 14