by Olivia Brynn
She’s dead-set against him. He’s dead certain he can change her mind…
Marienna Valdez has a cop allergy. Their cocky, superior attitudes never fail to turn her stomach. How fitting that her reward for enduring a perfectly sucky work week is a traffic ticket from one who’s on the kind of overblown power trip she learned to hate when she was growing up surrounded by boys in blue.
But now she’s finally home, where she prepares to take the edge off with a well-deserved self-love session. Just as she gets settled in with her favorite toys, though, what should come barreling through her bedroom door but…another cop!
SWAT team sniper Marcus Pearson doesn’t need detective skills to figure out just what he’s interrupted. If he can keep her quiet long enough to resolve the tense situation under her bedroom window, he intends to put down his rifle and take aim at her aversion to the badge…
Warning: This title contains one sheet-wrapped, cop-and-damsel burrito with toys on the side. Extra batteries included.
eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Position Secured
Copyright © 2010 by Olivia Brynn
ISBN: 978-1-60928-058-1
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover by Amanda Kelsey
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2010
www.samhainpublishing.com
Position Secured
Olivia Brynn
Chapter One
Goddamned cops.
Marienna threw her purse onto the recliner, not caring that the contents spilled out. A sixty-freaking-dollar ticket for not using her turn signal. Her weekend could not start out any worse. The pinche cabrone had the nerve to flirt with her and ogle her cleavage from behind his aviator sunglasses. Had she played that up, though, she might have gotten off with a warning, along with the sweaty pig’s phone number. Mari shook her head. Sixty dollars wasn’t bad considering that alternative.
Her mother had gone through the local police force like candy. That woman’s obsession with the uniform had gained Marienna three cop stepfathers, two cop half-brothers and one long-lasting hatred for the profession. She avoided the macho power trips at family reunions and didn’t intend to pander to every flatfoot she met.
She tore off her blazer and reached under her silk shell to unclasp her bra. After her heels, the bra was the first thing to hit the floor after work. If her boobs weren’t size C and a half, she’d go without more often.
She looked down at her chest. Naw, she’d never trade them for smaller models. She usually enjoyed the way she filled out her clothes. Just to show them that there were no hard feelings, Mari cupped them, one in each hand.
Adrenaline always did turn her on. Her tirade during the rest of the drive home only primed her for a night of wild sex with her toys. Blame it on my hot Latin blood.
“A date with Bob tonight,” Mari announced to her cat, who had curled into a fat white ball in the last square of sunlight that shone through the window. Chester just gave her the lazy look he usually did when she talked to him like a human. She returned his serious gaze, her hands still teasing her breasts. She refused to touch her nipples until she’d sufficiently worked herself up. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be out to cook some dinner.”
Chester yawned. Mari spun on her heel and marched to her room, where she wasted no time stripping and throwing her comforter on the ground. God, she needed this. After my Friday from hell and an asshole cop. All stresses can be erased by…
“Bob.” She pulled her vibrator and a tube of warming jelly out from her nightstand drawer. Okay, she was going crazy. Talking to cats was one thing, but now her battery operated boyfriend? She couldn’t care less. No one could hear her chatter. Hers was the first townhouse built in this subdivision. The rest were empty shells that would remain as such since the contractor went belly up during the recession. The local kids used the area to practice their X-Game tricks with dirt bikes and skateboards. There was only one guy in the townhouse glued to hers. He rarely left his place, let alone worried about the mental health of his neighbor.
Mari sprawled out on her king sized bed, propping pillows just how she liked them. Once she settled in, she released a sigh that had been building since about noon. Fuck ’em. Fuck ’em all. My boss can go straight to hell, right along with the traffic cop with the overblown sense of sexy. She blocked out everything. The hum of her air conditioner, the noise of a group of teens fighting outside her window, and even the distant sirens from the city in the background. She refused to be distracted this evening.
Finally she felt her face relax into a smile. Nothing like self-serve orgasms to make a girl feel right with the world. She propped Bob on the pillows under her hips and started with her breasts.
“Oh, hell yeah.” Her nipples, already stiff with anticipation, tingled at the first brush of her fingers. The warmth spiraled a familiar path down to her sex, filling her pussy lips with blood and moisture.
As much as she wanted to slide Bob in and turn it up to the highest speed available, Mari loved the buildup almost as much as the release, especially with this much tension coursing through her veins. The air around her almost crackled with energy. She tweaked her nipples, pulling them until currents of need zinged through her. Still, she maintained her slow pace. She licked her fingers and spread her saliva on the tip of each breast. The new sliding friction sent her heart into a slamming tempo. God, it was going to be good. She lifted her head and blew on her nipples. The cool air made her stomach clench.
She dropped her head back onto the pillow and stared at her ceiling. Her pussy begged to be touched. The moisture that coated her almost dripped onto the pillows beneath. She lifted her head again, this time blowing down the valley between her breasts and straight to her shaved pussy. She was so wet. She released her hold on one tit to slide her hand down her abdomen, slowly, feeling each inch of skin along the way, until she squirmed on the bed in anticipation. She loved driving herself crazy like this. Like she wasn’t in control of her own hands. Finally, she slid her two middle fingers into the heat of her sex.
“Aye, Mami.” She was so wet, so swollen, that the nerve endings surrounding her opening were pushed to the surface, amplifying each swipe of her fingers in her folds. Each became almost like a miniature orgasm of its own. One long drag down into her channel, then another back to her clitoris.
Then again.
She reluctantly released her other breast to pinch her clit. Her entire body jerked. Holy Mother, she almost came right there. She’d have to slow it down. She took a deep breath.
Screw that. She fumbled for Bob, completely disregarding the lube. As wet as she was tonight, she wouldn’t need it. Maybe for round two, only because that warming action was so damn…
Bam…bam…bam.
The pounding on her front door echoed through the house. Chester raced into her room and under the bed. “What?”
More pounding. Five steady beats that sounded like metal on wood. Mari shook herself out of her self-loving induced fog, and stood on shaky legs.<
br />
Who in the hell? If her neighbor had locked himself out of his house again, she was going to throttle him. Her entire being pulsed with need. She wrapped herself in her robe and stomped to the door, swearing up a storm in Spanish. Now anger simmered right along with the need to come.
“Who is it?” she barked. Never interrupt a girl’s orgasm, damn it.
“Lieutenant Marcus Pearson with Denver Police. There’s an emergency. I need to secure the premises. Open the door.”
She peered through the peephole. Sure enough, a man in a black T-shirt, black cargo pants and dark glasses held a mean looking rifle in one hand, his face partially obscured by the badge in the other.
Her hand flew to her mouth at the sight. She’d grown up in the west, and she’d never before freaked out at the sight of a rifle, but this black monstrosity was nothing like Granddad’s Winchester. “What do you want?” She spoke with her nose against the door. Her second cop encounter of the night, but things were looking up. This guy wasn’t overweight and balding. In fact, he looked damn good through the fisheye lens. She rose on her tiptoes to look down. Nice.
“I need to requisition your house. Please. It’s official business.”
It might be the orgasm fighting to come out, but even his voice was sexy. She might forgive him for being a cop.
“My house?”
“I need the vantage point from your upstairs window. There’s a hostage standoff in the vacant house behind yours. Could you open the door?”
“I was in the middle of something.”
“Ma’am, I need to come in.” The fisheye did nothing to disguise the tightness of his face.
“How do I know you’re for real?”
“I showed you my badge.”
“I can buy one of those at the dollar store.”
He spun around and ran one hand through his dark hair, leaving tunnels through the thickness. Perfect--now she had a view of his ass.
He whipped back around. “Lady…go to your southeast window and you’ll see what I’m talking about. This isn’t a joke or a ploy.”
Just then, she heard an authoritative voice boom through a megaphone from behind her house. “Drop the gun, Wilson.”
“Hurry up, ma’am,” the cop on the other side of her door growled. His low tone impressed the urgency. “I’ll break the door down if I have to. It could mean the life of an officer.”
If it was a ruse, he’d gone to a hell of a lot of trouble to set it up. The megaphone voice went off again, matching this guy’s intensity. She clutched her robe closer to her chest and unlocked the door.
Lieutenant Pearson burst in, barely nodded his thanks and, without a word, stormed down the hall and into her bedroom. Chester tore out and skittered back under the couch in record time.
Mari just stared after him. He even smelled good. Her entire body reacted to the testosterone surge filling her home. If she weren’t already on the brink of an amazing orgasm, his mere presence would have kicked it into gear. She followed him into her room, where he’d swept a stack of books from her windowsill onto the floor and knelt close to the edge of the window. He was in place with his rifle pointed out the open window.
Damn, he was hot. Lieutenant, huh? Marcus Pearson. Marc, maybe. With his dark hair cut short, he reminded her of an armed forces poster boy. His sunglasses were now buried in that hair, perched on his crown. He adjusted the black earpiece with connected microphone. The spiral cord disappeared down the collar of his shirt. A thick neck, muscular shoulders, arms that bulged with just the right amount of muscle and, holy hell…an ass that should be in Calvin Kline underwear ads. Mmm, Marc.
“Echo three, in place. Target locked. Awaiting go-ahead.”
Francotirador. A sniper. Good Lord. She might actually have to witness this man shoot another. Mari gasped, and the sound seemed loud in the utter stillness.
“You might want to leave the room, ma’am.” The cop spoke in the same voice he’d used to communicate with his team, so she wasn’t completely sure he was talking to her until he continued. “Just stay away from the windows.”
“I…okay…”
“Echo three, affirmative. Position secured.”
Mari backed against the hallway wall. She still had a good view of him through the door. Long moments passed. Mari’s breathing echoed in the hallway, and her heart thumped a heavy cadence. The megaphone below blared, but the sniper in her bedroom hadn’t moved one sinewy muscle. She wasn’t sure if he’d even blinked.
Damn, the man was one giant hunk of sex. His face had that rugged masculinity that she found extremely appealing. He wasn’t one to cover a men’s fashion magazine. Nor would he fit the part as a boy band front man. This guy looked like he’d been in a few fistfights in his time. He had an imperfect shape to his nose, and the stern set to his lips made him look fearsome and deliciously sexy, which was odd, because she didn’t even prefer white guys. Or cops. There must be something seriously wrong with her if there was a bad deal going down in her backyard—bad enough to call in a sniper—and she could think only of the man’s sex appeal.
Her hand was still clutching her robe to her breasts. The rapid rise and fall of her curves moved the satin across her nipples. A glance at her bed and Mari almost groaned. Atop the pillows stacked in the middle of the mattress lay Bob, pretty and pink as could be. She could almost see the indentation of her body in the rumpled sheets. She should be embarrassed. She should run into the room and hide the evidence, but instead her loins reacted in an entirely unexpected way. There was a hot as hell cop in her bedroom. Kneeling by her bed. With a gun. And testosterone oozing out of every pore, not two feet from where her sheets still held her body heat.
Marcus still didn’t flinch. He was completely focused on his job. In an uncharacteristic and severely reckless move, Mari slipped her hand between the folds of her robe and stroked herself. Damn, she was even wetter now than she’d been before she was interrupted.
She let go of the lapels of her robe and cupped her breast with her free hand. She imagined this cop in her bed. He would look into her eyes, his fingers would play with her clit. Stroke her just like this. Oh, God, yes.
He’d kiss her nose. That ruggedly sexy face would soften. Desire would make his eyes look glassy. He wouldn’t even notice her extra layer of fluff. He would kiss her everywhere. He’d touch every inch of her skin and treat her as if she were as beautiful as a supermodel. “Do you like this?” he’d say.
“Mmm.” Mari almost moaned aloud in answer. Then he’d kiss her. Hard. With those sexy, no nonsense lips. He’d shove two thick fingers inside her just like his tongue was ravaging her mouth. Then he’d pull back to kiss her jaw, and say…
“Echo three, affirmative.” His voice almost broke her out of her fantasy, but he hadn’t moved. It was still safe.
He’d pull back to kiss her jaw, and say… “I want to fuck you.”
“Take me.”
“Open up for me, Mari. Let me see your sweet pussy. I’m so goddamned hard for you right now.”
“Oh, God. Fuck me please.”
He’d pull out his fingers and settle his hard body between her thighs. He’d probe her opening with the plump tip of his cock. Oh, yeah, he’d be a hell of a tease. He’d bring his hand up to his lips and make a big show of licking her juices from his fingers. Mari closed her eyes, clarifying the vision, wishing like hell it was reality.
A chorus of shouts erupted from below her window. The only words that rang clear were, “Down, down, down!”
Marcus didn’t flinch. He calmly followed the action below with a slight tilt to his firearm. The ruckus continued outside, but not a shot was fired. Mari stared at him. Surely her eyes were as big as saucers.
“Alpha confirm. Subject in custody.” After a moment, he stood, one smooth movement unfolding his body. Mari yanked her hand away from her pussy, almost whimpering at the injustice. She gathered the opening of her robe in two handfuls. He removed the magazine from the rifle, then carefully took t
he single round from the chamber. His movements showed none of the stress she would expect to see. Each of his movements was practiced, smooth and deliberate, as if he trained a deadly weapon on people every day. Perhaps he did. He straightened and scanned the room before looking through the doorway to meet her eyes.
“Echo three to Alpha base. One witness to debrief. Echo three out.”
He pulled the headset from his ear, and it dangled off his shoulder. Mari took her first good look at him facing her, and she had those damn visions from her fantasy stuck in her head.
But the man in her fantasy burned hot and wild, and this guy was cool as a slab of marble and showed just as much emotion. Maybe he was a robot. He was a cop after all. “I’m sorry I had to startle you, ma’am. I appreciate your assistance.” His voice didn’t fluctuate from the deep, even tone.
Mari nodded. “No one was hurt?”
“No. A struggle, but no shots fired.” He jerked his chin toward the window. “Seems some pretty shady deals have been going on right outside your bedroom window. Probably while you were in here sleeping…” His gaze swept over the bed and fixed on her vibrator.
Heat flooded her face. Her heart, confused at the roller coaster of emotions, pounded painfully. She pressed her thighs together to quell the need flaring in her heated sex.
“You said you were in the middle of something?”
Great. He had a photographic memory. Mari blinked, bringing him back into focus. His smirk might have sent a lesser woman running for cover, but Mari saw the intrigue behind those blue eyes. She didn’t stop to think that it might just be her hormones bouncing around like fireflies in a jar. She folded her arms across her chest, lifted her chin and raised an eyebrow.
“That’s right. I’d like to get back to my…” she paused meaningfully, “something now, if you don’t mind.”
He walked toward her. Swaggered would be a better word. He paused at the foot of the bed and, without releasing her from his stare, he reached over and scooped Bob up off the pillows.