Cuffs

by Loki Renard

  “I thought we weren't going to let our personal feelings get in the way of work,” Jerry said. “Why aren't you clearing me?”

  “It's my feeling that the therapist was premature in her recommendation.”

  “Bullshit,” Jerry said. “It's your feeling that you don't want me going back to work that's stopping you. You were okay suspending me without taking those feelings of yours into account, but when it comes time to clear me for work you don't want to because we're together.” Jerry's jaw hardened. “Lara, this isn't fair.”

  “Maybe not,” Lara said. “But it's my call, and I'm making it.”

  “It's my career and you're ruining it,” Jerry shot back. “If I don't get back into the field, they'll fill my spot.”

  “I'm sorry, Jerry.”

  “You're not. You're not sorry. And you don't care, not about me. You just care about you.” Jerry grabbed her keys. “I'll see you around, Lara.”

  She made for the door, but a voice like ice stopped her in her tracks.

  “Jenny Schwartz, you stop this instant.”

  Jerry felt Lara approach her from behind. Then a hand was on her shoulder, turning her to face the woman she was so frustrated with she could burst.

  Lara put gentle hands on her shoulders, holding her in place. “You are not going to storm out on me. You are going to stay here and we are going to fight this out as a couple. Because that's what we are.”

  “You want to fight about this? What is there to fight about? You're going to fuck up my career because you're scared. You'd rather watch me wither away indoors than risk something happening again.”

  “I said I'd return you to active duty eventually. Just not the vice squad. Not right away.”

  “I didn't join the force to rap people over the knuckles for littering. Did you?” Jerry asked the question, then continued speaking without waiting for an answer. “I'm being penalized because I'm sleeping with my boss. If you were anyone else, I'd be going into work on Monday as usual. You're holding me back, Lara and you just can't do that. Dammit, you can't.”

  “You're right.” Lara's expression had grown solemn. “You're absolutely right.”

  “So you'll return me to the vice squad?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jerry had gotten her own way, but somehow felt as though she'd lost. Though Lara gave her a smile, it wasn't a proper one. It was a strained, forced expression as awkward as the hug that followed.

  “Are things going to be weird between us now?”

  “No, of course not.” Lara turned away, her voice tight.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No.”

  “Are you lying?” Jerry's tone conveyed a sense of wonder. Lara never covered her feelings up, never told untruths. But the shake of her shoulders and her tardy response convinced Jerry that what she'd thought impossible was happening. Lara was breaking down. “Lara, no,” she said, taking her girlfriend by the hand and leading her to the couch. “Don't cry.”

  “I don't want to cry,” Lara sniffed. She looked so forlorn in that moment, a million miles away from her usually composed self. Jerry reached out and wrapped her arms around Lara, holding her tight.

  “I'm really sorry this hurts and scares you so much,” she said. “I know it must be awful to worry.”

  “You don't know what it is like to worry. The worst thing that will happen to me is a paper cut.”

  “Not true,” Jerry said. “Bad things happen to people all the time. Just out of the blue. They can get into an accident, or get sick...”

  “This isn't helping,” Lara said softly.

  “I just mean... life is unpredictable. None of us are safe. Ever. Not even sitting here on this couch. There could be a tornado or a tsunami or anything at any moment. A crazed psychopath could break in here and try to turn us into skin suits. Anything could happen. An electrical appliance could short out in the night and we might asphyxiate from smoke before we hear the alarm...”

  Lara smiled slightly through her tears. “You don't often give comforting talks, do you?”

  “No,” Jerry admitted. “I'm just saying, what happened to me was bad. And yeah, what I do carries some risk, but this was a wake up call for all of us. I'm going to be real careful from now on, Lara. I promise. And not because you'll suspend me if I don't, but because I don't want to see you cry or give you any reason to fret. I love you.”

  The smile on Lara's face became genuine. “I love you too.”

  “I'm not going anywhere. I promise. It's going to take more than some cracked out dealer to take me down.”

  “I suppose I can't ask for any more reassurance than that.” Lara's eyes glistened with remnants of tears as Jerry cuddled close, providing all the comfort she could. Somehow, even when comforting Lara, Jerry ended up being the little spoon.

  “I know I'm taking your heart out there with me,” Jerry said. “And I'm going to guard that thing with my life. Promise.”

  “You better,” Lara said, claiming her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. Her hand slid between Jerry's thighs and cupped her mound. “And you better behave yourself. If I catch you putting so much as a pinky out of line when you get back, I'm going to tan your hide, Schwartz.”

  “Yes, Ma'am,” Jerry grinned. This was the Lara she knew and loved, the confident, dominant woman who knew how to lay down the law.

  “Come here,” Lara purred against her mouth, squeezing Jerry's pussy through her pants. “I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your name and you have to take mine instead.”

  “You want me to be called Lara?” Jerry asked the question as Lara's lips played across her jaw and down her neck. “Won't that get confusing?”

  “Ashcroft,” Lara said, lifting her head. “I want you to be Jerry Ashcroft. I want you to marry me, Jerry.”

  Caught between arousal and surprise, Jerry let out a soft moan.

  “Don't answer yet,” Lara said, working at the waistband of Jerry's pants. “Let me work it out of you.”

  The pants put up resistance that resulted in Jerry having to stand to get them off, and Lara following after her, stripping every inch of clothing from her body until Jerry found herself naked, her back against the wall, Lara's strong thigh pressed between her legs.

  A mischievous impulse took her. As Lara's long fingers trailed across her cheek, she turned her head, licked at each of the long digits, then took the meat of Lara's palm into her mouth.

  “Oh that's what you want to do?” Lara purred the question. “You want to bite?”

  Jerry nodded, pearly white teeth held fast to Lara's hand. Her eyes were dancing with mischief, caramel brown pupils ringed with golden halos. She was no angel. Never had been. Certainly wasn't now with her pussy grinding against her girlfriend's leg, seeping wetness.

  A hissing breath was sucked between Lara's teeth. “Let go, puppy,” she crooned, leaning closer so her lips were next to Jerry's ear. “Or you won't like the consequences.”

  Jerry said something, but it was muffled against Lara's flesh. Probably for the best.

  The long fingers of Lara's free hand slid softly over Jerry's cheek. Her jaw was clenched with the bite, making her cheek puff out slightly. Soft, round, like another part of her anatomy Lara loved.

  “Last warning.”

  Jerry held on tighter, corner of her lip lifting in a little snarl. She was in one of those moods where she just had to push the boundaries, see if they were still in place.

  Lara's fingers traced the lines of Jerry's cheek, moved away for a moment, then returned in a soft slap just barely harder than a tap. The touch elicited a reduction in the pressure of Jerry's teeth, but she did not quite release Lara's hand. A sound escaped her lips, somewhere between a growl and a playful giggle.

  “Naughty,” Lara murmured, bringing her fingers back across Jerry's cheek. This time the slap was a little harder, packing a little more sting. A fresh light pink bloomed across the skin. A thrill ran through the shorter woman, f
rom the hot patch on her cheek to the place where her thighs split around the fulcrum of her lover's thigh. She rode her hips forward, grinding her clit against Lara's leg and she let go, leaving a red ring of teeth marks across the lower part of Lara's palm.

  Lara inspected the damage with a raised brow. “Oh you are such a naughty girl.”

  Catching her own lower lip between wayward teeth, Jerry grinned.

  “Is it nice to bite?” A slightly stern note came into Lara's voice.

  “No?” The response was husky and quiet.

  “That's right,” Lara tenderly stroked the pink spot on Jerry's cheek. “But you did it anyway, didn't you?”

  “Mhm.” Dark lashes closed over golden eyes as Jerry smirked.

  “Brat.” Lara claimed the mouth that had been feasting on her hand. There was a faint taste of her buttermilk hand lotion in the kiss, but it faded as their tongues met.

  Lara trailed her hand down Jerry's naked body, taking a path between neat, high breasts down the toned bare midsection that got plenty of exercise running from consequences. Her fingertips touched the curling down of Jerry's pussy and slid further south, touching wetness. Her girl was soaked.

  “Oh you enjoy it, don't you? You enjoy being bad.” Lara slipped a finger inside Jerry. Just one finger, curling to the first knuckle. Too shallow and too slim a penetration to provide real pleasure. Just enough to tease and tempt.

  A whine escaped Jerry.

  “If you want more, you'll have to be good. You'll have to keep your teeth off of me.” She swirled her finger around the lower reaches of Jerry's pussy, teasing the tender lips. “You'll have to do as I say. You'll have to behave yourself. Can you do that, Jerry? Is that possible?”

  “More...” Jerry breathed the word, then nipped Lara's neck.

  “No. No more.” Lara stilled her finger and drew away. “I told you not to bite.”

  “But...” The word was a whine.

  Lara's teeth-ringed hand slid back up Jerry's body. She held Jerry back against the wall, a squirming, writhing, naked body consumed with the need to be fucked.

  “You're so beautiful,” Lara breathed, placing kiss after kiss on Jerry's lips. Down below, Jerry's hips gyrated in wet circles. “But you're a brat and I won't put up with it.”

  “You love it.”

  “Do I now?” Lara let her hand drift across Jerry's lips and tender mound, lightly slapping. Each little impact bought a jolt of pleasure, Jerry's hips bucking with the motion of her hand.

  “Mhm...” Jerry took a deep breath and let out a long, low moan. Her normally pale face was becoming flushed, along with the upper reaches of her chest and bosom, nipples hard like pebbles. The wet sounds emanating from her pussy grew louder as the flat of Lara's fingers met tender moist lips.

  “You're not going to cum yet,” Lara said, sliding her hand away. “Perhaps not at all, Miss Teeth.”

  “If I don't get to cum, I'll bite you again.”

  Lara's fine brow rose. “Threats? You still think it's a good idea to threaten me, my dear?” A flick of her wrist resulted in the pads of three of her fingers landing swiftly across the lower reaches of Jerry's pussy. “I must have been neglecting your discipline.”

  Jerry looked up at her lover under dark eyelashes. “You never neglect me.”

  “And I never will, sweetheart.” Lara's fingers pressed between Jerry's lower lips, the back of her hand resting against her thigh as she began thrusting slowly inside the woman she loved with every inch of her body and every ounce of her strength.

  Soon Jerry's hands were clutching at Lara's shoulders, grasping for stability as her lover's fingers rocked inside her, drawing out her climax and the answer to the proposal that still hung in the air.

  Would she marry Lara? With her pussy riding against her lover's leg, with her juices coating Lara's hand, with her clit grinding against the flesh of the palm she'd so recently bitten, Jerry didn't have to think about the answer. It came as naturally as the orgasm welling in her pussy, and burst forth with the same gasped release.

  “Yes... Yessss.... Yessss!”

  *~*

  A note from the author:

  Thanks for reading Cuffs. I very much enjoyed my journey with Lara and Jerry, and I hope you did too. I imagine they're living happily ever after now, Mrs and Mrs Ashcroft in an apartment half filled with fine crystal and half filled with paper plates – which Lara might tolerate on the grounds that they're at least recyclable, unlike those nasty old polystyrene foam ones. Or not.

  If you're not familiar with my other works, here are some books you may find of interest. (An excerpt for Rigel follows this note.)

  Rigel

  Little Miss and the Law

  MotoBrat

  Witch's Cat

  You can also visit me at my site:

  http://sapphosbrats.com

  RIGEL

  Fresh from a post-workout shower, Chris 'Tank' Watkins stretched and pushed her way out of the gym. It was late, almost midnight. It had been a long day. She was about to turn around and lock the door when the sounds of loud banging and cursing distracted her from her task.

  Out in the parking lot, a small, very familiar, figure was beating the shit out of her car. She was fashion forward in the year of our lord 1985, which meant being dressed in tight stone wash jeans and a matching jacket. She threw punch after kick after punch at the body of the Corolla. Her dark shaggy hair, long at the back but shaved short at the front, swung across her pale face obscuring the scowl from time to time.

  “Rigel!” Chris dropped her gym bag and jogged over to the scene of the auto beating in progress. “Rigel, settle down.”

  “No.” The smaller woman balled her fist and slammed it into the side of her car. Her knuckles bloomed with red pain, little cuts breaking open in the skin from repeated punishment.

  “Cut that out,” Chris snapped.

  Ignoring her, Rigel raised her fist again but before it could descend Chris caught her by the wrist and that was the end of that. Chris was a large woman, broad across the shoulders and powerful to boot. Her deep set blue eyes didn't often give much away and her blonde crew cut spoke to exactly what she was, simple, direct and to the point.

  “I said, cut it out.”

  Something in her voice made Rigel listen. Perhaps it was the slightly deep note of authority. Perhaps it was the warning flash in her eyes. Or perhaps the young woman was finally getting what she really wanted and craved – someone who cared enough to stop her.

  “Why are you so angry? What happened?” Chris kept a hold of Rigel's wrist whilst she asked the questions.

  “I got kicked out again.” Rigel deflated visibly. Her shoulders drooped and the fist fell away to dangling fingers hanging limply on the other side of Chris' firm grip.

  “What did you do?” Chris's tone was grim. Serious. Not at all comforting or understanding.

  The look she got was one of defiance in preparation for disappointment. “They found my stash.”

  “Rigel.” Chris's voice was heavy with disappointment. “I told you St Martins had a zero tolerance policy on drugs. Even weed. You signed a contract.”

  The sharp lines of the younger woman's face became even sharper as she scowled furiously. “They don't have any right to tell me what I can and can't put in my body.”