Past Midnight (South Island PD Book 2)

by Ranae Rose

  He ran a hand over the curve of her hip. “I don’t know, it had a certain ambiance. Maybe it was the fact that we were surrounded by panties.”

  She bit her lip, trying to hold back laughter. “Hmm. How old are you again?”

  “We’re almost the same age, remember? I’m not so sure you have any right to judge. You chose the panty business to make a living in.”

  “That’s true, but I don’t find it quite as exciting as you seem to. At least, not in the same way.”

  He slipped a thumb beneath the side of her panty, against her hip. “Why wouldn’t I find these exciting?”

  A frisson zipped up her spine. She was wearing just a matching panty and bra set, but the way he touched her made her feel overdressed.

  “Well, that’s different… I’m wearing these.”

  “I imagine you wearing all the stuff in your shop – that’s the fun of it.”

  She laughed.

  He hooked his thumb and slid her panties down, past her hips.

  She unfolded and stretched her legs, letting him remove the gorgeous lingerie that had become a mere afterthought.

  As soon as he had them past her ankles, he knelt between her legs, dipping his head between her thighs and pressing his mouth to her pussy.

  Bolts of sensation shot through her like electricity, making the muscles in her belly and hips tighten. This wasn’t the first time he’d gone down on her, or the second, or the third, but she had yet to get used to the shock of feeling his hot mouth pressed against her pussy lips, or seeing his strong body bowed between her thighs.

  Her legs trembled, involuntary tremors zipping from her hips to ankles.

  He gripped them tighter, keeping them spread as he closed his lips around her clit and sucked.

  She dug her fingers into the sheets, then balled her hands into fists. The sheets dampened against her palms as he continued, making them sweat.

  She couldn’t stand it when he did this, and at the same time, she loved it – it was unbearable in the best way possible. The pleasure he unleashed with his tongue came in waves, each one making her insides a little tighter. A climax drifted closer by the second, drawn by every stroke of his tongue.

  He kept going until she reached it, and release hit her like a brick wall. It’d only been a week, but she might as well have been abstinent for a century. She was still fighting to catch her breath when he rose from between her thighs and peeled off his boxer briefs.

  The sight of him naked, with his hard cock stretching toward her, filled her head with ideas about reciprocating. She’d only gotten so far – halfway down his shaft, to be exact – before he laid a hand on her shoulder.

  He kept it there, slowing her with gentle pressure, forcing her to hold back. After just a few strokes, he stopped her.

  “I know it’s only been a week,” he said, “but it feels a hell of a lot longer. Guess I got used to seeing you every day.”

  She leaned back, releasing him from her mouth. He was hard as a rock, and she could taste a hint of salt on her tongue. “I know what you mean.”

  The time they had left together that night was limited, but she was so absorbed in the moment it didn’t matter.

  She could still feel the heat of his hands on the insides of her thighs when he rolled on a condom and lowered himself so that they were hip to hip.

  He moved easily – gracefully – and looked so good doing it. It made every second they spent in his bed seem so natural.

  She didn’t regret a thing as he pressed his mouth against her neck and kissed his way down her chest, to one nipple and then the other.

  Her breath hitched, and she arched against the sheets. They were already warmed with body heat, no longer cool.

  He stopped, and his weight shifted.

  When she opened her eyes, his gaze locked with hers. The hard, hot head of his cock was pressing against her pussy lips. She was so wet she ached, and when he pushed inside her, the ache doubled.

  “You’re so tight, Peyton…” He rocked into her. “I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

  She’d never felt tighter than now, with his shaft stretching her walls and making them contract at the same time. Her body held him tight, without her even thinking about it.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

  His visits to Charmed had turned work into a special sort of torture. Every trip to the breakroom or storage space filled her with a melancholy sense of longing, now. She couldn’t retrieve so much as a single bra from storage without aching for him; they’d seared memories into every surface with their hands, lips, mouths…

  He lowered his head and she rose to meet him, lips tingling as they met his. The kiss was deep, with an edge of urgency – almost worth the week of longing.

  By the time it ended, her pussy was clenching tighter and tighter around his dick. He was hitting a perfect spot, deep inside her, and she was close. The friction of his groin against her clit was mind-numbing, to the point that she couldn’t think of anything else.

  Her hips jerked involuntarily, and she came even harder than she had when he’d gone down on her.

  “Fuck, Peyton…” He seemed to get even harder. Maybe it was just an illusion created by her climax, but it felt real, and it felt good.

  She cried out. No words, not even his name. Just sound she couldn’t hold back as her pussy shrank around his thick shaft.

  He groaned and thrust harder, shaking the bed. Despite the condom, she could feel the heat as he came. Afterward, she realized he must’ve fixed the bedframe that’d knocked against the wall last time.

  It was a good thing, because if he hadn’t, there would’ve been holes in the drywall.

  * * * * *

  Elijah was still thinking of Peyton when he walked into the station the next morning. She’d gotten deep under his skin, to the point that he couldn’t even think about her without his heart pounding and his cock stiffening a little.

  When would she let him take her out again?

  He already couldn’t wait. For the first time in days, he felt good.

  “Hey, man.” When he reached the top of the stairs, he ran into Jackson, who held a cup of coffee. “Lieutenant’s looking for you.”

  Elijah looked down at his watch, just to make sure he wasn’t late.

  He wasn’t.

  “Thanks.” He nodded as his stomach lurched, thoughts of the night before evaporating. What now?

  Jackson clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be all right. Everyone around here knows you’re a stickler for the rules.”

  Yeah, but it was people outside of the department he was worried about. Biting back that response, he nodded again and headed for the Lieutenant’s office.

  Aldred was behind her desk, flipping through a folder, when he entered.

  She put it down right away.

  “Good morning, Lieutenant.”

  “Good morning, Bennett. I’m afraid I have some unpleasant news.”

  More? He waited for her to continue.

  “I’m suspending you from your regular duties while internal affairs investigates Joseph Weitkamp’s claims.”

  His stomach plummeted straight to the toes of his boots. “I’m being suspended?”

  “Considering the outside pressure from other sectors of the city government, internal affairs has to investigate. It’s not personal, and I don’t take any pleasure in taking you off the streets, but it’s for your own good.”

  “How?”

  “Joseph Weitkamp has been making a stink about what allegedly happened. He managed to get an interview with some online magazine that carries a big chip on its shoulder when it comes to law enforcement. He also ran into another officer at a restaurant the other day and made an ass of himself.”

  “How?”

  “He started gloating about the interview, made a scene. Horowitz was the officer, and he did an admirable job of diffusing the situation peacefully.”

  El
ijah’s jaw began to ache, and he consciously willed himself to stop clenching it.

  “I don’t want him to run into you on the street and harass you,” she continued, “which I suspect may be his ultimate goal. I’m not suspending you from duty entirely, though. I have a temporary alternative assignment for you.”

  Elijah met the Lieutenant’s gaze. Her expression was unreadable. “What is it?”

  * * * * *

  Peyton hummed as she rinsed a colander full of cherry tomatoes beneath the kitchen faucet. It was just past seven, and with the work day behind her, it was nice to have dinner already made. The bourbon chicken and rice she’d made on Sunday was heating in the oven; all she had to do now was throw together a salad.

  “Peyton?”

  She looked over her shoulder.

  Madison stood at the edge of the linoleum, leaning heavily on the cane she’d started using to get around the house, saving the wheelchair for longer public outings.

  “What is it?”

  Madison untucked her tablet from beneath her arm and pointed at the screen. “I’ve been spending a lot of time online lately, managing our social media presence.”

  “I know.” The statement came out half question. There were lines between Madison’s brows – why? “Is something wrong?”

  Madison’s expression was terse. “Just come take a look.”

  A sense of foreboding settled over Peyton as she shut off the faucet and approached her sister. Had they gotten a bad online review?

  She swallowed the knot that formed in her throat. She checked all the major public review sites regularly, and they didn’t have many to begin with. Each one was hard-won and valuable. A one-star could easily tank their rating anywhere.

  But Madison wasn’t pointing to a review site; she was pointing to her own personal newsfeed. Beneath a picture of someone’s chubby-cheeked new baby, there was a link.

  “Elijah Bennett. That’s the Officer Bennett you’re seeing, right?”

  “Yes, why?” The question tumbled out even though she didn’t really need to ask.

  South Island Police Officer Breaks Weaponless Teenager’s Arm

  Peyton blinked, but the headline didn’t go away. Below it was a picture of the South Island Police Station, and the beginning of an article.

  South Island teen Joseph Weitkamp gives a disturbing first-hand account of police violence in this exclusive Injustice Journal interview. Weitkamp, 18, was assaulted by Officer Elijah Bennett during a traffic stop on the night of…

  Madison tapped the link so that the rest of the article appeared in a new window.

  The contents of her stomach curdled as she read. She could feel Madison’s stare boring into her as she gazed at the screen, both reluctant and compelled to finish the article.

  The interview ended with a recap from the author.

  Weitkamp was treated for a fractured radius at the South Island Hospital and is waiting for a statement from his insurance company, hoping that the claim will be covered. Besides financial damage, the bone is expected to take months to heal fully and may cause long-term problems in function and mobility. A petition to remove Bennett from the island’s police force has been initiated by the Weitkamp family, who hope to hold the department accountable for Officer Bennett’s gross misuse of power.

  Peyton let her eyes linger on the screen, her mind racing, for as long as she could bear before looking up.

  “Peyton,” Madison said, “you need to reevaluate what you see in this man. He’s clearly not the hero he’s made himself out to be.”

  Peyton’s gut knotted. As terrible as the article’s accusations were, it raised several red flags in regard to its legitimacy. The author’s tone was biased, for one. And what the hell was the Injustice Journal?

  The name didn’t ring a single bell.

  And why wouldn’t Joseph Weitkamp’s insurance company cover treatment of a broken wrist?

  “This can’t be accurate,” Peyton said. “Where did you find the link?”

  The lines between Madison’s eyes deepened. “Everyone’s sharing it. The entire island knows.”

  That was probably an exaggeration, but the link was clearly there in her newsfeed, and she wasn’t the one who’d posted it.

  “I wasn’t digging for dirt on your boyfriend; this just popped up in my feed. And I’m pretty damn glad it did.”

  Madison sounded genuinely angry now – a rarity.

  “Are there any other sources reporting this – legitimate sources? Because it seems like it might be a bad hoax.”

  Madison sighed. “I know this is a shock, but sometimes it happens to the best of us. I don’t relish telling you all this; I just want you to get out of this relationship before it’s too late.”

  Peyton fought to keep her expression neutral. “I’m not going to jump to such a big conclusion over a blog post. I’ll talk to Elijah myself.”

  “Why, Peyton? So he can lie to you? I’m sure he has some ready-made excuse up his sleeve; cops always do. It’s not like he’s going to admit he’s guilty.”

  “Has it occurred to you that he might actually be innocent?”

  “No.” Madison’s tone was steely. “And I don’t think it’s wrong of me to not give a cop the benefit of the doubt.”

  It was easy to sense the layers to Madison’s statement, all the things left unsaid but there in the room with them nevertheless.

  Peyton was hit with a heavy sense of guilt: guilt for hurting her sister, and guilt for feeling guilty over defending Elijah.

  Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  Madison set her tablet down on the counter. “I can tell you’re mad at me, but I don’t care. I don’t care because I care more about you being safe than I care about you liking me.”

  “I’m not mad.” The words tumbled out. Twice. “I’m not.”

  She hated seeing the mixture of hurt and determination on Madison’s face. “I understand where you’re coming from. I just don’t think this article is all there is to the story, if there’s any truth to it at all.”

  “Did you read the whole thing?”

  “Believe me, I’m going to look into this,” Peyton said, “but I don’t think the truth will be anything like the story that post portrays.”

  Madison squeezed her eyes shut, sighed, and opened them again. “I found this article over an hour ago, and I did some research… Did you know that the wives and girlfriends of police officers are several times more likely to be physically abused than the average American woman?”

  Peyton bit back a sigh.

  “It’s true, Peyton. Look it up if you don’t believe me.”

  “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t necessarily mean—”

  “What if it’s your arm that gets broken next? Or worse…”

  Peyton frowned. There was no placating Madison right now, she was too emotional – her eyes were watery.

  She needed to talk to Elijah, needed to find out what the hell this was all about before she could fix things with her sister.

  Even though she knew Elijah would never assault a defenseless person, there was still one glaring question: if everyone really was talking about this, why hadn’t he so much as mentioned it to her?

  CHAPTER 21

  Elijah was on the treadmill at the gym when his phone vibrated in his shorts pocket. He still had another five minutes to go with his warm-up jog, but it might be Peyton, or work – either way, important.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket as he continued to keep pace.

  It was Peyton.

  By the time he shut off the treadmill and pulled his earbuds out, his phone had stopped ringing.

  He called her back. “Hey, sorry I missed your call. I’m at the gym.”

  “Okay. Well, maybe this isn’t the best time, but as soon as you’re free, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “I can talk now. What is it?”

  Something had her worried; it was evident in her voice.

/>   “I read today that you’re being accused of breaking someone’s arm.”

  His gut knotted, and the back of his neck chilled beneath beads of sweat. The light-as-air feeling he always got from a good jog evaporated immediately.

  He stepped away from the nearest machines – not that that granted him any true privacy. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying attention to him or what he was saying.

  “It’s true that I’ve been accused, but the allegations are completely false.”

  There was more of an edge to his voice than he’d intended there to be. He could only hope it didn’t come off as an edge of desperation.

  Which was what it felt like. What if she didn’t believe him? Or, even if she did, what if the stress and stigma of dating an officer accused of something so shitty wasn’t something she wanted to deal with?

  “It didn’t sound like you at all,” she said. “But why would someone accuse you of that?”

  “Can you meet me at my place in an hour? I can’t discuss it in public.”

  His heart was still thrumming, and not because of his jog.

  The silence from the other end of the connection lasted way too long.

  “If that won’t work, can I call you when I get back to my apartment?”

  Another pause, and he began to sweat even more heavily.

  “I’ll come over. See you in an hour.”

  She sounded unsure – of what, he didn’t know – and that left him with a heavy feeling in his chest as he slipped his phone into his pocket and returned to a workout he no longer had the heart to finish.

  * * * * *

  Peyton’s hands were clammy when she arrived at Elijah’s front door. Curling one into a fist was gross, but she did so and knocked, her heart in her throat.

  She wasn’t afraid of Elijah. Not at all. She was afraid of what he’d have to tell her, and what it might mean for them going forward.

  She tried to smile when he opened the door, but it was hard – she’d lied to Madison’s face on her way out, telling her she was leaving to grocery shop.

  The lie wasn’t something she was proud of. In fact, it made her feel about eight years old.