There’s a loud booping noise behind me. And I jump, really jump, and spin around. A cop car turns its blue and red lights on. I smile, so damned happy to see that handsome cop of mine.
Gabe picks up his car’s radio. “Do you know how fast you were going, ma’am?” His voice is loud, mechanical, and sounds so much like a…like a cop’s.
I laugh.
“Do you have the proper license and registration for wearing those little pants?”
I cover my mouth and look around the deserted area, making sure no one can hear my naughty police officer.
“That’s it,” he says, his voice a growl. “Put your hands behind your head, ma’am.”
Oh, this could be the funnest game of all. I’m not into submissive play. But he is a cop. He’s got the authority. He’s got handcuffs too. However, I think I’m the perfect thief to steal them away and use everything against him.
I can’t help but keep smiling as I place my gloved hands behind my head. My hair’s too short for a ponytail, per se, but I am trying to wear one near the top of my head. I feel idiotic, especially with my ear protectors on, but I hope he likes my black running pants enough to overlook what’s going on with my head.
“Get down on your knees, ma’am.”
Slowly, I do with my hands still behind my head. I really like this game. I love playing with Gabe. I don’t know how he knew I’d like this. But I do.
He opens his car door and comes around to me. He’s wearing a black winter skull cap with the Laramie Police logo on the front. He’s in all black-blue, and padded with his bullet-proof vest. And I’m wet by the time he stands in front of me.
“I went by your house and saw your little tracks in the snow.” His voice is still growling. God, I love it.
I’m craning my head back, and my nipples are so hard I wonder if they’re poking through the down vest I’m wearing. “I’m on a run.”
“I see that.” He stands closer, his crotch near my head. His nostrils flare. “If this weren’t a residential area…”
I lick my lips. “I want your cock in my mouth.”
“Fuck,” he groans and looks over his shoulder. “There’re houses just over there. They might already be looking at us.”
“I want it so bad, Gabe.”
He caresses my cheek. “I want that too. Let’s get you inside my car.”
And then we are. I’ve never seen the inside of a cop car and am mesmerized the way an eight-year-old boy would be. There’s gadgets and radios and a computer and a huge console between Gabe and I.
Gabe’s smiling when he looks at me. “This is where I spend twelve hours of my day, dicking off.”
“Do you masturbate in here?”
He groans again and reaches across the console to caress my cheek like he did in the snow. “How do you look so damned innocent then ask if I masturbate in my car? Do you have any idea how wickedly tempting you are?”
I bite my lip. “You didn’t answer me.”
He moans once more and does this thing that drives me crazy. He stretches his masculine hands over his hard thighs and pushes his pants down while he rocks his hips, giving his now bulging cock more room, I presume. I don’t know what it is about that movement, but it’s pushing all of my buttons. It feels like when he rolled his hips, he triggered something within my clit. God, I want him.
“I came damned close today.” He smiles at me. “To masturbating, I mean. I was thinking about you.”
“I thought about you today too.”
“Did you?” He arches a dark brow.
I nod. And I did. Through Chris and Paul and my worries, I thought about Gabe’s whiskers, how he doesn’t smile enough, but when he does it always knocks me off kilter. My breath hitches and my heart stops then beats too fast.
“Chris tells me he ran into you today.” At the mention of Chris, Gabe’s voice is a tad less warm than just a second ago. “That you had a bad day.”
“He did?”
Gabe nods and reaches over the console again, taking my vest’s zipper and pulling it down. I watch his hand, my heart beating faster every escalating second, as he reveals my black thermal running shirt.
“I—yeah,” It’s hard to concentrate, but I do for him. “Bethany, my best friend…we found out she needs a biopsy.”
He looks up into my eyes, his gaze intense, and not just because he was inspecting my breasts. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“It does.”
“You want to talk about it?”
I look at him, gauging if he really means it. He’s pulling apart my down vest, glancing at my bound breasts in my running bra. I have uniboob going on, which I doubt is very sexy. But it takes a few seconds for Gabe’s gaze to return to mine.
“I’ll quit undressing you, if you want to talk. I promise.”
The thing is, I’m talked out. I just want to feel. “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want you to stop.”
He gives me that smile of his. “What’s under that black shirt of yours?”
“My running bra.”
“Can you take all of it off?”
I look around again. There are happy houses fencing the park. Not a lot of homes, but just enough to feel like we have an audience. However, the way he’s parked his car, now with the lights off, I feel relatively safe from exposing myself. I wonder if that was his thought as he parked.
There’s static on the radio, and a female voice cuts in, saying something about a possible nine-two-two in process.
“What’s a nine-two-two?”
Gabe rolls his eyes. “That’s code for Brown, Sam Brown, another patrol officer who works this shift, going to the bathroom again.”
I smile. “Really?”
“Yeah. He goes a lot.”
“Do you think he masturbates or actually goes to the bathroom?”
Gabe narrows his eyes. “I really don’t want to think about that. What’s up with all the masturbation talk, anyway?”
I shrug. “I can’t stop thinking about you, in here, doing it.”
He reaches over the console for a quick kiss. “I love your dirty mind.”
I sigh.
He stretches, narrowing his eyes again. “You weren’t really going to give me a blow job in the park, were you?”
“I wanted to.”
“You don’t now?”
“I want everything from you.” Whoops. Well, that slipped from my lips faster than I could have stopped it.
His blue eyes darken. Almost blacken. He reaches and, with his help, I’m launched over the console, straddling his hips, his steering wheel digging into my back. His armor hurts my breasts, but I like the pain. It’s slight and I wouldn’t be hurting if I weren’t so tender, sensitive, and raw everywhere. The tiny edge of pain reminds me of what we’ve done together, what I hope we will keep doing.
It’s hard to sit on him. He’s got his gun which kind of scares me, I hate to admit, and other cop paraphernalia around a belt. Actually, he’s wearing two belts and all of it is overwhelming when thinking of how to get to him.
And I feel…too needy. I’m scared the men have opened a dam inside me, one where I’m flooding with lust, need, and desire. But worse, I’m scared I’ll be flooded with hope, craving to be loved. It was so much better when I was alone. I could handle the alone times. Now, I annoy myself with how much I want…everything.
Gabe reaches under my skin-tight thermal shirt. His hand is cool and calloused, and I sip in a breath at his touch.
“Sorry, I forgot how cold I was,” he whispers. He stops his adventure under my shirt. “I forgot what I was doing. I’m working, Jane. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
I look down. There’s no space between us, but I’m sure he’d like some. “I’m sorry.”
He tips my chin to look at him. “It’s not your fault I feel…insatiable concerning you. I was the one who got you on my lap.”
With his confession, I feel embolden. Maybe he feels just a small amount of what I do. Because right
now, I know I’m holding myself back. I always hold back. But this weekend, with him, with the other men, I didn’t. I let go over and over again. I gave in to this whirling pool of…emotions and wants and needs. And it felt good. As good as the sex itself.
His hand is on my thigh, and I take it and smooth it up and under my shirt again. “Tell me to stop and I will,” I promise. Then I smile and lean forward. “Or if you want, I can handcuff you, so you could say you had no choice in the matter. You could let me have my way with you.”
He opens his mouth slightly, and I plunge into it. I’m kissing him like a mad woman. I can’t help it. He reaches up and cups my bound breast. But it doesn’t feel good with my running bra on. I lift the hem of my shirt, exposing my belly while I’m still kissing him then unzip my bra.
“It’s a zipper?”
I nod.
He hefts my shirt up more, all the way to my neck and widens my bra, revealing my puckering pink nipples. I thought it was warm in his car, but with my breasts exposed I realize now it’s a little cool. But we’re warming it up fast.
“Why is your car cold? Do you sit in it this cold?”
He takes one of my breasts in his mouth, suckling, kissing, licking. The scrub-scrub feel from his three-day-long whiskers drives me insane with desire.
“I just came from a patrol stop. Drunk driver.” He switches to my other breast, giving it the same attention.
I moan but manage to ask, “A drunk driver? At this time of the day?”
He looks up. “They’re at all times of the day. It’s a small town. Most of my calls are drunk drivers or domestics.”
His blue eyes reflect the calls he’s gone on. Those mesmerizing orbs of his are older than they should be, because he has to ask people, probably daily, to prove their sobriety. He has to walk into someone’s house and see a person who’s been beaten. That’s his job. He sees the worst of humanity, and he tries to make sure we never hurt ourselves too much. He’s so fucking gorgeous, his intentions are so good, I can’t help but kiss him again wildly.
Both his hands are on my breasts and I try to grind against him, but his gun is in the way. I look down, frustrated by his sidepiece. I don’t want to kneel on it, but I don’t know what else to do.
He unbuckles his belt, looking at me while he does it.
I feel ashamed of my need for him. “You can stop me whenever you want.”
“I don’t want to. I know you had a hell of a bad day, but mine wasn’t great either. I couldn’t wait to see you again. I was thinking of just talking, but—”
“But I jumped you.”
He smiles and leans forward, removing the thick belt that has his gun and—oh!—handcuffs. “Something like that.” He puts the belt on the console. “I’m pretty sure I jumped you though. Seeing your little ass standing there in those black stretchy pants…yeah, I’m pretty sure I jumped you.”
“I liked the bit about my proper license and registration.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was being corny. Stupid.”
He reminds me of Chris, saying how he was being corny. And I feel so happy. I kiss Gabe, pushing my tongue in his mouth and just as fast leave. “No. Never.”
He smiles once more and my heart bursts. “Now let’s see about these stretchy pants of yours.”
I watch him pull my waistband and easily stretch the fabric down to my pubic hair.
He groans. “Why, Jane, sweetie, you’re not wearing any underwear.” He pulls farther down, exposing more of my sex.
“I don’t wear underwear when I’m running. Not usually.”
He looks up, his eyes intensely dark and blue, a trickle of pink coloring the hollows of his cheeks through his black whiskers. With the sun tilting the way it is, casting its last pink rays into the sky, I notice he has red in his beard. A little blond too.
“So that night,” he says, “that first night I met you, when I came over, you were wearing underwear.”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t usually?”
“Right.”
He moans and touches between my folds. “Did you put them on for me? As a kind of protection against me?”
I shake my head, closing my eyes because he keeps strumming my clitoris. “No—I—no, I wore them because I thought you might like them.”
He rubs against my clit more and I arch back, pushing my breasts closer to him.
“What a delicious little bad girl I have.” He inserts a finger deep into me and I moan. Taking that finger, he moves it to his mouth, sucking it in. “Yep, delicious.”
I kiss him again. I think he knows I’ll kiss him like the fool I am when he says things like that. I’m fairly certain he’s pushing me to do more and more. He doesn’t need to. I’m scared I’m too needy anyhow.
He might have removed his belt with his gun, but he’s got another one that’s just as much a hindrance. But I don’t bother with it. Instead, I find his zipper and roll it down. Reaching in, I fist his warm hard cock and begin to stroke as he circles my clit again. We’re rubbing and grinding and moaning. Then I inch closer to him. And closer.
“Do you have a condom?”
“No,” he growls.
“If you hop to the other seat, I’ll kneel on the floor and suck you off.”
“Jesus, I love that mouth of yours. You look—”
“Do I really look innocent? Are you disappointed I’m not?”
He looks up at me, especially as I stop stroking him. “Disappointed? No. I—yeah, you do look innocent. Like a girl in a fairy tale, like a medieval damsel in distress or just damsel. I want to take care of you.”
I don’t know what this means. Do I look weak? I know I wear my surprise on my face because he looks desperate to find the words to explain himself.
“Not that you need me to take care of you. I just…” He stops rubbing me, but his finger slides closer to my opening. “You don’t feel like you come from the world I know, where people are drunk at three in the fucking afternoon. Hell, they’re drunk all the time. You don’t look like you come from a place where men and women beat each other and call each other the worse names possible, where people hurt each other more than they love. It’s like you live in a different world, even though I know you don’t. Even though I’m pretty sure you’ve seen the same shit I have. But you’re not as affected.”
“I might be. Maybe I just hide it better.”
He shakes his head, circling around my opening, making concentrating on this conversation difficult. “No, I—it’s like something in you has reflected all the shit from this world, and it’s made you pure. Like nothing you do or see will ever change that. You’re pure. And I want that. I want to touch you and be inside you—” he gently pushes his finger inside me then, “—and talk with you and laugh with you all the fucking time, Jane. I want that purity. I want to protect you from the world, even though you may not need it. Even though you’re strong enough to take whatever this world dishes out and still be so pure, I still want to protect you. I want you to be mine so I can do that.”
And I thought I was frantic for him earlier. After his speech, I can’t have him fast enough. I’m scrambling, panting, sweating, and I worry faintly he might not want what I do. Maybe he did want me to suck him off in the passenger seat. But, while still straddling him, I’m already on the tip of his cock, ushering him inside before either of us say a word.
I’m stretching my pants to a breaking point, and I don’t care. I just need him inside me. He’s not wearing a condom and I don’t care. I just need.
I sit down on him, and we don’t say a word. We just look into each other’s eyes. I cling to the bars behind his head, sectioning the criminals from the police. Then I begin the down-up that’s as old as time. We stare at each other. I’m fascinated by him, enamored, in love. Maybe I’m in love with those words of his. I don’t know. But I want to believe him so much.
Of course there is a nagging thought buzzing in the back of my brain, telling me he wouldn’t think I was
pure if he knew where I came from. That reporter asked me over and over again if my uncle molested me. He kissed me inappropriately. Once. After I accepted his proposal, he pushed his tongue in my mouth and I gasped and pulled away. He’d already told me that’s what married people did. He also said he’d waited long enough for me to kiss him like that. He couldn’t wait one more second. One day soon, he promised me, he’d show me all the ways married people loved each other. He had me sit on his lap then. I wasn’t astride him. But I sat on him as a child would because I was only fourteen, after all. He scooted me back until I felt his erection on my hip.
I didn’t kiss or touch a boy for years when I was free. I was much too timid. Anne worried I was molested. I could tell she did. But I didn’t want to be reminded of my uncle.
Then I fell in love with Tim. I really did. He was sweet and patient and actually a good lover. It took a year for him to coax a stiff orgasm from me. It wasn’t my first. I’d touched myself before. But I told him it was. I was a liar and so scared when I was married. I really can’t blame Tim for all the sins of our marriage. I was too scared to reveal myself to him.
But I’m letting go of all of that with Gabe.
As I slide up and down his cock, I’m showing him more of me than I ever have to anyone before. I’m wild and free. And it scares me. But I like the feeling too much to stop. I like fucking him too much to stop.
We’re kissing and he’s cradling my face, sometimes my breasts. I keep clutching at the cage behind him, wondering if I might rip it from its holdings. I feel too strong. Too vibrant. There’s too much light inside me. I’m too happy. I’m too filled with joy. I’m so completely filled with him.
He holds the back of my neck tightly, forcing me to kiss him. His other hand is on my hip, pushing the rhythm faster and faster. I feel his body tensing, even through his thick layers, even through his armor, I feel his orgasm coming. And it urges me closer too.
Then he releases the deep kiss to look me in the eye, and he crests over, holding my cheek so our gazes meet. I feel his cock’s spasms then the gush of him, his liquid.
I orgasm, my hips undulating. We kiss and hold each other tightly. It’s over too soon and the intense light inside me wanes. I feel human again. I felt like a goddess, but not now. I’m back to where I’m uncertain if Gabe means anything he says.
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