More shots ring out so Brant and Mikey hit the floor again. Mikey crawls to me, cuddling me close. Fear and anxiety distort his face.
Another cop appears in the back doorway with a gun raised. He levels it at Brant but a shot rings out from behind me and he cries out clutching his shoulder. His gun falls from his hand. Brant grabs it and boots him in the gut, sending him tumbling after the other two.
We all turn to see Ridge holding a pistol. He nods. “Keep the fuck down,” he commands.
Another shot rings out and Brant is hit. The impact sends him backward into the wall where he slumps clutching his hip. Ridge crawls to him and looks beyond into the night. He fires off two shots and kicks what’s left of the door closed.
Brant’s injury looks superficial. He’s swearing but he seems okay. Mikey takes the gun off him. We crawl into a small laundry. Bullets are still hurtling into the house, smashing things and thudding into walls.
“We’ll just hold up in here,” Ridge commands. “It won’t be long.”
“What won’t be long?” Mikey challenges him.
“You’ll see.”
And we do see. Ten minutes later there are helicopters swooping in and we see two vans with armoured men piling out to round up a bunch of crooked cops.
Ridge flips open a phone. “We’re in back, in the laundry, chief.”
“Chief?” Brant asks, his jaw sagging.
Ridge clips a badge onto his leather jacket. “Internal affairs,” he says, grinning. “Sorry you good folks had to go through this. We’ve been after these fuckers for years.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mikey sees Brant off in the ambulance. We have to report to the police station tomorrow afternoon to make a statement but we’re free to go now.
My hand is being held—gripped tight. I’m led to the motorcycle. Mikey gets on and helps me. It’s dark on the out-of-town road. I’m taken to the small cottage where the classic cars are. “Who lives here with you, Mikey?”
“Just me,” he says. He hasn’t said much else. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
I nod. My voice fails me and a dry little squeak comes out instead.
I follow him in. It’s quaint. The furniture is all stained wood and glass. It’s kind of dark but immaculately clean. I wonder if he’s going shower first or just fuck me. I want him to just fuck me.
He pulls me close. I’m inside his jacket. His shirt is sweaty, his strong masculine scent overpowering. He kisses me and his hand closes over my left breast, his thumb working my nipple and making me moan into his mouth.
“You’re beautiful, Emily.” His amazing green/grey eyes bore into mine.
I slip my arms around his neck as he crushes me to his rippling taut body. His hands cup my bottom, his fingers opening me as I try to grind down onto his thigh. He kisses me hard, his fingertips edging beneath the elastic of my panties and feeling me bare. He reaches in further and I hook a leg around him. I’m on my toes, being tongue kissed and fingered.
“You’re wet, baby.”
“Hmm. I know. I think I’ve been wet since you sat at my desk on Friday”
He chuckles a low, throaty sound. His voice reverberates right through me. His finger is searching deep, others are pressing against my clit and anus. I feel his package. His cock is erect. There are buttons that slip through easily. I free it and grip the hot shaft. It’s thick, my fingers barely encompassing it. He kisses my neck as I swivel around in his embrace and align myself for penetration from behind.
I grip the kitchen bench and squirm back as his cockhead opens me and he slips in. He pulls back and grinds forward again. A third time and he’s fully inside of me. He’s not long, just exquisitely thick, and he’s filling me perfectly as he begins the thrust.
I brace back against him, tilting my hips to the right angle for him. He grips the back of my neck with one hand and holds my breast with the other. His jeans and boxer shorts are around his ankles. My skirt is hiked up my back. My pretty lace panties are still pulled up. He’s fucking me through the edge of them.
He’s pressed to my back now, his hips rolling, his cock surging up into me, lifting me as he grinds against my bottom. My orgasm hits hard, thumping through my belly as he surges and holds firm, sucking on my neck as I cum on his cock.
“I’m close, baby,” he breathes into my hair.
I squirm back onto him. He’s still fully up me and feels harder than ever.
He does a short thrust, bumping against me. He does another and I pant, grinding my slick opening over the base of his cock. He thrusts three more times and holds firm as my orgasm reignites, and he starts fucking me over the bench top until he lets out a cry and drives up into me to ejaculate.
He throbs and throbs inside and ends up over my back stroking my hair and kissing my face. When his spent penis slips from me I turn and cuddle up. He lifts me and carries me to the shower. We bathe each other, his delightfully rough hands all over me and making me want to climb back on his dick. It’s hard again as I wash it tenderly.
His bed is king size, and the plain cotton sheets smell fresh. He enters me missionary, his huge frame pinning me to the mattress as he fucks me slow and through more orgasms than I can count.
He’s sleeping now and I’m cuddled to his chest. There is enough moonlight to see by. It’s a nice sized bedroom. There’s a built in wardrobe and plenty of spare room for a dressing table and drawers. The kitchen was nice. I only got a peep into the lounge, but with a bit of work and redecorating… The bathroom was new. He must have refurbished it recently.
I’m smiling as I drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You hungry, baby?”
I’ve just woken. Where am I? Oh yeah…
“Yes, I’m starving,” I call back.
I’m nude. There’s a bathrobe hanging over the back of a chair. It’s too big, but will do.
Mikey’s fully dressed and cooking eggs and bacon. I make the toast and sip the coffee he’s poured for me. We eat. He eats fast.
“I have to run. I can’t be late for work. I took a sick day on Friday and shit’s going to be piled up waiting for me,” he explains. “I have a car parked outside for you. Can you find your way home?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He kisses me softly. “See you tonight?”
“What do you mean? Where?”
“Stay over again? We’ll talk?”
“Oh, okay.” I’m grinning huge. He gives me another kiss and squeezes my bum, then he’s gone.
An hour later, I walk into the office and Cynthia looks at me. “Oh my God.”
“What?” I check my reflection in a shiny wall panel. I look okay.
Cynthia folds her arms and cocks her head. “I saw you on the news.”
“Oh shit!”
“Oh shit indeed,” she agrees, her smile all-knowing as her eyebrows raise. “Well?”
“Well what?” I know I’m blushing.
“And did you sleep alone last night, miss? Judging by the look of you, I’d guess no.”
“What, you can tell?” I check my reflection again.
Peter Perfect strolls in and gives me a deliberate look. “Emily, do you have a moment?” He motions to his office.
Cynthia and I exchange mock horror glares but we’re both giggling.
I enter Peter’s office. He closes the door and slips onto his desk for a seat, putting him pretty much in my face.
“So, Emily, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, in not a strictly professional sense, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I was wondering what your thoughts are on workplace romance—whether you would consider going out with me one night this week?”
“Oh, really? Um… Peter. I um… Actually, thank you, but no thank you.”
“Oh, I see. Too tricky with work and all, huh?”
“Yes. Something like that.” I’m backing for the door. “So, Peter, you haven’t seen the local news?”
&n
bsp; “No. Is there something I should know about?”
“Um… We’ll probably talk again later today, I expect.”
“Fine. Did you make an appointment for that biker fellow for today?”
“Yeah, well, about that…” I’m out the door now. “Well, that’s actually a long story, Peter.”
RETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS
RIDE YOUR WAY
CELINA REYER
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to do this, Mallory?”
Mallory glared at her older brother as he lounged on her bed. Of course she was going to be able to do this, who did Richard think she was?
“This is the big break I need, Richie. This will get me the promotion I need,” Mallory tossed another dress in the suitcase before heading toward her en suite bathroom with a toiletry bag in her hand.
“I know, Mall, but Victor Klein has been on the radar for nearly five years and no one’s been able to prosecute him.” Victor Klein was the president of the Jokers Motorcycle Club and the number one drug lord in Florida. The man had avoided arrest for nearly five years, somehow always managing to pin the blame on someone else. And the evidence always ended up confirming the person Victor had framed.
Mallory heard Richard sigh as she tossed several essentials into her bag: shampoo, conditioner, razors, tampons, and anything else she thought she might need.
“Trust me. I’ve got something all the other undercover agents haven’t got.”
“What’s that?”
“These.” Mallory bent forward, cupped her breasts in her hands, and wiggled her chest from side to side.
“So you’re going to seduce the man?”
“I’m the only woman who’s ever been given this big a break on this case. I’m going to use all my best assets.”
“Just promise me you’ll be safe. I can’t have anything bad happening to you.”
“I know. I couldn’t leave my big brother to fend for himself, now could I?” Mallory jumped onto the bed and grinned at her older brother. They had gone to the police academy together when Mallory turned 18. For the past 11 years, the brother and sister worked their way up at the department, and this was the break Mallory needed.
Richard had managed to land deputy sheriff, but she was still stuck in uniform. When she was presented with the opportunity to catch one of the biggest drug lords of Florida, she wasn’t going to turn it down.
“Where’s your badge?”
“I left it at the station. I couldn’t risk Victor or one of his cronies finding it.”
“Gun?”
“Over there, along with daggers, knives, and more guns. Richie, stop worrying. I’ll be fine.” Mallory punched Richard playfully in the forearm, and her big brother chuckled before pulling her into a bear hug.
“Just stay safe, Mall.”
“I’ll be home before fall starts.” Mallory kissed Richard’s cheek before shooing him from her bedroom so she could get some much-needed sleep. Tomorrow she was going to try and convince a big-time drug lord that she was just like him.
****
“What’s the girl’s name?” Victor reclined in the big leather chair in his office as he surveyed his vice president.
“Mallory Jackson. Five foot five inches, one hundred and twenty pounds, blue eyes, blonde hair, high school dropout. She’s been involved with drugs since she was seventeen and slowly worked her way up to become the third most successful dealer in town.”
“Why does she want to see me?”
“She has a new drug she’d like to distribute.”
“What’s it called?”
“She isn’t telling anyone. She asked to talk to you.”
“Bring her in, then.” Victor picked up the crystal glass off the table and swirled the amber liquid in it, ice clinking. He took a sip as the door opened and Billy and Jesse escorted Mallory into his office.
The woman was a blonde bombshell. She had curves in all the right places and the red dress clung to every single one of them. Victor’s eyes traveled the expanse of Mallory’s body, taking in the cherry red lipstick and the stockings she was wearing.
He snapped his fingers and the two men released their hold on her. She held herself proudly and kept eye contact with him, which was more than his own crew did. Victor pushed himself back from his desk and stood at his full height, determined to intimidate her.
He towered over the smaller woman; the height difference was phenomenal when they stood face-to-face. Well, chest-to-face.
“What’s your name?”
“Mallory Jackson.”
“Why are you here?”
“You know why I’m here, Victor.”
“Well, why don’t you tell me anyway, Mallory?” Victor perched himself on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms over his chest, knowing the muscles in his arms were stretching his shirt.
“I want to market a new drug and I’ve been told you’re the man to come to.” Mallory licked her lips as her eyes traveled the expanse of his body. He felt her gaze linger where he kept his gun, but soon he was once again looking into blue eyes.
“What’s the drug called?”
“O.”
“Is that it? It’s just called O?”
“The drug can cause orgasms in women if the woman’s partner so much as touches her intimately.”
“What’s the upside for men? Most drug users I work with are men,” Victor watched as Mallory put her hand on her hip and tilted her head to the side with a frown.
“Why don’t you take some and find out, Victor?”
“I’d rather you told me,” Victor reached behind him, pulled a cigarette from the pack, lit it, and took a drag.
“O induces orgasms in both men and women. The orgasms are a bonus, the effects usually cause a rush, much like the effects of ecstasy.”
“So basically it’s ecstasy, but more powerful?”
“Except it works in ten minutes,” Mallory reached into her handbag, pulled out a small packet out, and tossed it to him. Victor opened the small zip-seal bag and poured the five tablets into his palm before inspecting them.
They were long and pink and an O was stamped on each of them. He slid them back in the bag except for one, and then pocketed the small bag.
“I need a volunteer to take this,” Victor said as he stood up. When none of his men volunteered, he took Mallory by the wrist and led her to the bar, where five men sat.
“I need a volunteer to take this!” Victor shouted. All the men stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at him.
“Either someone volunteers or I choose someone.”
“What is it?” someone asked.
“A new drug called O.”
“Give it here,” Jack the bartender hopped over the bar and held his hand out. Victor dropped the pill into his hand and the man swallowed it with a shot of whiskey. They waited.
Victor bade Mallory to sit on one of the leather stools off to the side, and couldn’t help but stare as she sat, her dress riding up to reveal the top of her lace stockings. Victor sat on the stool behind her while Jack sat on the edge of the pool table. There was always a tense moment when a new drug was tried for the first time, especially on one of his men.
Fifteen minutes passed before Victor noticed that Jack was starting to get twitchy. The bartender jumped off the pool table and started bouncing on the balls of his feet. Victor stood and held the younger man’s face in his hands as he looked at Jack’s eyes. The pupils were dilated.
“Okay, step two. I need someone to make him come,” Victor announced. All of his men stared at him for a few seconds before Elijah, the smallest of his crew, stepped out from behind the pool table.
“I’ll do it.”
“I knew you were a faggot!” Jesse yelled, and Victor grabbed him by the neck.
“We don’t care who fucks who, understand, Jesse?!” Victor yelled in the man’s face. Jesse nodded and stumbled backward as Victor pushed him away with a sigh.
“Go in the ba
ck room, Elijah. Take Jack and see if this drug actually works.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“The drug causes orgasms if you just touch him,” Mallory said before Victor could open his mouth. “Make sure you don’t let him come more than four times in a row because it could cause a heart attack.”
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