Brothers in Blue: Max

by St. James,Jeanne

  “That’s a lot of pizza for only three people.”

  “Well, Greg and I are still growing boys.”

  Greg plopped down in a chair at the table. “Yeah, ’Manda, Max an’ I’s are growin’ boys.”

  Max wiggled his eyebrows at Amanda. Yeah, she knew exactly where he was still growing. And it wasn’t his height.

  Within minutes, Max had scarfed down three slices and Greg was trying to keep up, though while Max tended to use a napkin, Greg had sauce ringing his mouth as he shoved in a piece of crust.

  Greg blasted out a belch so loud Chaos started barking.

  “Manners.” Amanda scolded him.

  But Max laughed in turn, making Greg laugh around his apology. “’Scuze me.”

  She gave Max the side eye. “Don’t encourage him.”

  Max just shrugged. He asked Greg, “Do you feel better?”

  Greg nodded his head as he chewed on another piece of crust.

  Max winked at Amanda. “Good.”

  “How long is your dinner break?”

  “As long as the radio is quiet.”

  Which, of course, jinxed him.

  The radio suddenly chirped, and Max already was out of his seat.

  “Dispatch to Manning Grove eight.”

  Max grabbed the portable. “Manning Grove eight. Go.”

  “Two vehicle crash at Williams Road and Hollow Hill Lane. Unknown injuries. Fire and EMS en route.”

  Amanda watched as his whole demeanor changed suddenly from the relaxed pizza-eating guy seconds ago to shoulder-squared, protect-and-serve guy now. She even thought his chest puffed out a little bit more.

  “Ten-four, dispatch. I’ll be en route.”

  “Can I’s go with Max?”

  Amanda brushed his hair out of his eyes as they watched Max shrug on his heavy patrol jacket. “No, Bud. Sometimes we need to handle things on our own.”

  Max gave her an apologetic smile before heading out the door.

  Well, shit.

  While Amanda started to clean up the table, her cell phone beeped. She checked her texts.

  Meet me in your driveway at 11:15.

  * * * *

  The man was prompt if nothing else.

  Amanda slid into the passenger side of Max’s Chevy pickup. Only the glow of his dashboard illuminated the interior once she quietly shut the door. Last thing she wanted was to wake up Greg. Or the neighbors. Like Mrs. Busybody.

  He was back in his civilian clothes, soft worn jeans, and a short-sleeved T-shirt, exposing the Marine tattoo on his arm. Amanda wanted to lean over and lick it. And that would just be the starting point.

  “You know it’s like negative twenty degrees out there.”

  Max’s chuckle was low, causing a shiver to run down her spine and her pussy to quiver. “It’s thirty-eight degrees. My jacket is behind the seat, and I have the heat on.”

  She tilted her head and studied his strong jawline and lips that were curved up in a smile.

  “I may have to turn the heat off if you don’t stop looking at me like that.”

  She placed a palm on his chest over the thin cotton. “You do feel a bit warm.”

  He wrapped his fingers with hers, bringing her wrist to his mouth. He pressed his lips against her skin and stroked his tongue over her pulse point.

  “I want to get to know you better, Amanda…”

  The way he hesitated after her name made her think, uh-oh. This wasn’t going to be as simple as it could be.

  “But?”

  She pulled her hand back when he sighed, letting it fall to her lap.

  “But my parents really like you.”

  Amanda shook herself mentally. What? “And that’s a problem, how?”

  “Listen. I’ve been a bachelor my whole life.”

  Oh, here we go.

  “I mean, I date—have dated. But between my stint in the Marines right after high school, going through the police academy, then concentrating on my career, I just never had the desire to get serious with anyone.”

  “Who said anything about being serious?” Amanda’s stomach churned. Where the hell was this going?

  “No one…yet.” Max cleared his throat and stared at the hands he now had gripping the steering wheel. “Here’s the deal…”

  She stared at his profile, wishing he would get to the point. This was getting painful.

  “Okay, so you just want to fuck me and not have anything serious. No problem. I’m completely fine with that. You come over, fuck me until I come, then you go home.”

  His head swiveled toward her, wearing a frown. “No—”

  “Yes. I get it. You just want an occasional booty call.”

  “No. Wait. Hear me out.”

  “What, Max? What do you want? What are you trying to say?”

  “You heard my parents…no, my mom on Christmas Day, so excited to see a female in her house. She has been bugging all of us to settle down, produce children. I mean it’s a constant thing when we’re there.”

  “Okay, I get it. I’m not the one you want to settle down and have children with.”

  “No. Well, yes… No! Fuck!” Max scrubbed a hand over his short, bristly hair. “No. I just don’t want to give her the wrong idea. Like I said, I want to get to know you better, but I…I…just don’t need the pressure from my mother.”

  “So you’re saying you’re a pussy and can’t stand up to your mother.”

  Max pinched the bridge of his nose and just shook his head.

  “You’re saying that if you’re seeing someone, your mom suddenly hears wedding bells.”

  Max sighed, letting out a long shaky breath.

  “You’re saying that you’re afraid to fuck someone casually because you’re going to be pressured by your mom to start popping out brats if she finds out.”

  Amanda laughed, and Max’s eyebrows shot to the top of his head.

  “You know you can be a control freak, but it sounds like you get it honestly. You like to control others, but you’re afraid of your mother controlling you.”

  She was being a little harsh. She knew what a real controlling mother was like. She had one of her very own. Her mother was a controlling, manipulative woman, but she didn’t see Mary Ann as that at all.

  “From the little that I saw, she only wants what’s best for you. Just like a good mother should. You are very lucky to have her.”

  “I am lucky to have her. And my pop. But I think you’re missing my point.”

  “No. I get it. You want to fuck me, but you want us to keep in on the DL. I got it totally.”

  “Just from my parents.”

  She knew what he was getting at, but he was not going to be getting any help from her to pull the foot out of his mouth.

  “You really don’t want my mom to start meddling and blowing things out of proportion. My mom doesn’t know why anyone would want to take it slow or get to know someone better first. So that’s a reason to keep it on the DL.”

  “You know, there was this cop who once told me that this was a small town, and everybody knows everyone’s business,” she teased.

  He snorted and shook his head. “I’m such an ass.”

  She smiled. “I won’t argue that fact. But you do have a very hot ass and I do want to fuck you and I don’t want to marry you or start popping out your spawn. So now what?”

  “So now we get naked and fuck?” he suggested. He gave her a sheepish grin, which totally melted her heart.

  “Here? Is that even possible in the cab of a pickup?”

  “Oh yeah. Anything is possible if you want it badly enough.”

  “So, Officer Bryson, are you saying you want me bad?”

  “I want you so badly I can taste it.”

  Amanda chuckled. “Well, tasting is good.” She looked around the cramped quarters of the truck. “But I still don’t know how this would work.”

  Max tilted the steering wheel up, making a smidgeon more room. He twisted in the driver’s seat to face her.


  He stroked his thumb over her lower lip gently.

  Driving his fingers into her long hair, he pulled her close. He murmured against her lips, “I want to make you come. I want to hear you cry out. I want to hear you scream my name.”

  That sounded like a good plan to her.

  He smothered her lips with his, and Amanda sighed, her breath blending with his, her tongue brushing against his. And as he deepened the kiss, her nipples hardened painfully under her sweater.

  He pulled back, breaking their kiss. “You see that handle up there? Grab that and lift yourself up so I can slide over.”

  She pulled herself up and he slid under her, but before she could settle in his lap, he grabbed her yoga pants and pulled them down her legs. She was so glad she had changed into the comfier, easier-to-remove pants. Plus, she never wore panties under her yoga pants. He threw them onto the driver’s seat along with her sneakers.

  She released the grab handle and yanked her sweater over her head. Oh yeah, she had also removed her bra when she had changed. She had been thinking.

  Before she could turn, he ran his hand over her hip and then down to find the V of her legs. Her thighs trembled as he explored her, his fingers separating her, pressing her clit, before dragging between her swollen lips to discover her wetness. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. She slammed her palms down on the dash to steady herself, and her head fell forward as he pressed his fingers inside her. She was so hot, so wet, that he whispered those words into her skin as he licked and kissed along her spine.

  He twisted a nipple with one hand while his other fucked her over and over until her knees buckled and she fell back against him, crying out.

  “Turn around.” His voice was harsh. Commanding. And it made the heat at her core want to explode.

  She twisted in his arms, in his lap, until she straddled him. His eyelids were heavy, his breathing ragged, and his hard-on was unmistakable in his jeans.

  He kissed her long and deep, finally releasing her so he could kiss down her neck, finding the hollow of her throat. He cupped her breast and lowered his head, sucking the nipple between his lips.

  Her back arched; she wanted him to suck harder, pinch harder, pull and tease her nipple.

  He did all that. And more. Nipping, caressing, licking her skin, biting her shoulder, stroking her clit with his thumb.

  She needed him now. Inside her. Otherwise, she was going to break apart and go mad.

  “I want you. Now.” She groaned and lifted herself up again, trying to give him enough space to pull his jeans down. He managed to push them to just past his knees before sinking back in the seat and taking her with him. His thighs were big and muscular, so when her knees found enough purchase to straddle him, she spread wide, inviting, waiting.

  He took a handful of her ass, pulling her tight against him. He fisted the base of his cock, and she shifted until the tip was at her entrance. And when she let her body go, she sank down on him, taking him inside her completely.

  She tilted her hips just slightly, seating him even deeper. She had him all, from base to tip, inside her.

  He dug his fingers into the flesh around her hips as she lifted and fell, riding his pulsing cock.

  He watched her watching him. She wanted to smile at him, tell him how good this felt, how hard he was, how wet she was for him. But nothing came out but nonsense. Curses. Groans. Cries. He joined her, wordless sounds as she rode him hard.

  Until she squeezed her inner walls tight around him. And he stilled, his nostrils flaring, his eyes closed, his jaw tight.

  She squeezed his cock like a fist, releasing and tightening. Release. Tighten.

  She ground her hips down against him. Once. Twice. The pleasure built until it radiated from her core, curling her toes, making her eyes roll back in her head.

  With one last cry, her body pulsated around him, her climax spiraling from her center.

  He threw his head back against the seat. “Fuck!” And he released deep inside her.

  She dropped her forehead onto his shoulder and let out a long, shaky breath.

  * * * *

  She laid with her head in his lap as he sat up in the driver’s seat. Her legs were folded against the passenger-side door, and her muscles complained a little in that cramped position. The gear shifter was jammed into her ribs, but it was worth it because he was stroking her hair while she stared up at him. They hadn’t said anything for a while, and she didn’t want to break the easy silence. His fingers in her hair made her want to purr.

  His other hand moved down her skewed sweater to draw circles around her bare belly button. At the end of every circle he would flick the gold hoop at the center.

  “What’s your dream, Mandy?”

  Her thoughts were slow and relaxed, and that was the last question she expected from Mr. Type A personality. Her dream…

  “I don’t know. Though if you would have asked me a few months ago when my life was totally different, I still wouldn’t have had an answer. I had no direction. I just lived day by day. Hour by hour. Partying with my friends, bartending for some cash, hanging out at nightclubs or in South Beach. Wherever the action was.” She sighed. “Now I just feel lost.”

  “You’re not lost.”

  “I feel like my feet were ripped out from under me during a riptide.”

  “You’ll find your footing again.”

  “Maybe when I get back home.” To Miami. Back to familiar things. Familiar ways. “What’s your dream?”

  “I’m living it.”

  She shifted her head to get a better view of his face. “Really? Wearing a uniform, arresting people, rescuing cats from trees?”

  “Having a career I can be proud of. One with job security. Working on my pension so I can afford to eventually retire. Owning a home. Helping people. Saving enough that if my parents need help later in life, I can do that.”

  Amanda faked a yawn. “Sounds exciting.”

  Max shook his head. He gazed down into her face, studying her. “You’re young yet.”

  “I’m twenty-eight.”

  “Age is just a number. You are young; in a few years you’ll get what I’m saying.”

  “I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like my kind of life.”

  He took a deep breath. “Right.” He looked at his watch. “Shit. It’s one a.m. I need to get some sleep.”

  Amanda yawned. For real this time. “Yeah, me too. I used to stay out all night, but now I couldn’t do it if I tried. Greg gets me up so early. My ass is going to be dragging in the morning.”

  She sat up and straightened her clothes before sliding out of the passenger-side door.

  “I’ll see you around, Officer Bryson.”

  “Hey,” he called to her.

  “Yeah?”

  “Stay out of trouble.”

  “Why? I now have an ‘in’ at the local police department.” With a wink, she slammed the door shut and ran into the house.

  Chapter Eight

  “The best home cooking is passed down through generations.”

  “Well, there aren’t any good cooks in my family tree,” Amanda told Mary Ann as they stood in the Amanda’s kitchen.

  “Nonsense. I can’t believe that your mother never taught you anything in the kitchen.”

  “If you met her, you wouldn’t even wonder.”

  Mary Ann bit into one of the cookies still on the plate, which had been carelessly tossed on the counter after Amanda’s return from the neighbor’s. “Oh dear.”

  She ripped a paper towel off the roll, carefully spitting out the mouthful. She wadded it up and tossed it in the garbage.

  Amanda grimaced. She thought she had improved at least a little bit, especially since she stopped burning them after the first few dozen. Hence the desperate phone call to Max’s mom. But Mary Ann’s expression just proved it; Amanda was hopeless in the kitchen.

  “Oh, sweetie, it’s not that bad. Okay, well, it’s not that good either. But it was a good try. You just n
eed a little…uh, maybe a lot…of guidance. I’m so glad you called me. Now we get to spend some time together. I want to get to know you so much better. Especially since you’re seeing my son.”

  “Well, we’re not really—”

  The older woman waved a hand at her. “Okay, we’d better get started. We have a lot of work to do.”

  They dug through all the cookbooks that Amanda had not only found in the house but also the stack of books she had bought at the church sale. The sale where Mary Ann had run into her and was kind enough to offer to help her learn to cook. If she needed it. And clearly she did.

  The first lesson didn’t even involve heat, fire, or anything burning. Mary Ann sat with Amanda to go through her extensive cookbook collection, pointing out easy recipes to try, explaining techniques that were involved, telling her more about some of the ingredients, and showing her the difference between cooking utensils.

  The time flew, but there was so much to learn that Amanda’s head started to ache. Mary Ann wanted to concentrate on baking first, but Amanda begged her to teach both cooking and baking at the same time so she could cook healthy meals for Greg. Mary Ann reluctantly relented and decided that each time they got together, whether here or on the farm, she would teach Amanda one dish and one baked good.

  Amanda did know how to brew coffee, and she did so while they sat at the kitchen table mulling over future recipes.

  Late in the afternoon, both were burned out. Amanda took a sip of the steaming-hot java. “Do you know your initials spell Ma? Mary Ann. M.A.”

  Mary Ann chuckled, reminding Amanda of her son. “Of course, I knew that.”

  “So, can I call you Ma for short? Would you mind?”

  “Sweetie, I don’t mind at all. I’d love it. You call me whatever you’d like.” Mary Ann sighed and looked sightlessly over her mug. “I’ve always regretted not having a daughter. I just couldn’t risk having another son. Three was enough. I told Ron that if he got me pregnant again, I’d castrate him myself. He was always such a randy man. Still is. And his sons are just like him. God help the women they choose. Hardheaded, harebrained—” She stopped abruptly as if suddenly remembering who she was with. “Oops, I should be pointing out his good points. I’m never going to get them married off if I tell the truth.” Mary Ann laughed so hard she had to set her coffee down. “Well, I’ve got to get home and make my man some dinner. He gets pretty cranky if he doesn’t get his supper on time.” Mary Ann pushed away from the table and stood.