by Madison Faye
I stewed over this as I scooped grounds into the coffee machine. It was much too early to be worrying about big-picture stuff like this, I decided, groaning at the smell of the coffee beans wafting out of the can.
It was quiet as I sat at the kitchen counter, silent but for my thoughts and the low gurgle of the coffee machine.
I sat there, sighing and sliding my fingers through my long dark hair. I had my writing, not that it payed much, and after the layoff, I’d suggested that I could always go back to teaching. I’d enjoyed teaching, however brief it was before we got engaged and moved to the west coast for Tim’s new job. And after that, I didn’t really have to work anymore since he was bringing in so much.
But Tim thought that was “below” us now, now that we lived in a higher tax bracket, a better neighborhood, with higher bills. None of which we could afford for much longer without work. But he also refused to look at anything that was less than the position he'd had before, which was looking more and more unrealistic. I sighed again into the darkness of the kitchen and reached for the coffee.
My thoughts were interrupted by a loud ping from across the counter. With a frown, I glanced at the origin of the sound as it went off again.
Tim's phone, left downstairs next to his half-drunk beer from his late-night arrival. Blinking in the semi-darkness, I reached for it to find the volume switch, and then went totally still has my blood chilled in my veins.
There, lit up across the screen of his phone, was a photo of a pair of nude, perky tits.
Tits that were decidedly not mine.
The room went silent around me as I felt my pulse pound in my ears.
The phone pinged again, this time a text popping up on the screen:
Hey honny, thought u were cuming ovr last nite.
What. The. Fuck.
My face went leaden and hard, coldly emotionless, and I felt as though the wind was slowly going out of my sails. There was a tightening, like a knot, in the pit of my stomach, and for a minute I almost felt like I was going to throw up.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
My face felt numb as I hissed it into the empty kitchen.
The real shitty part was, I wasn’t even surprised. Part of me could have almost guessed this was going to happen. I didn’t think Tim stepping out had started until after the job loss, and since then, it’s almost like he hadn't even been trying too hard to hide it. That and the fact that he’d barely touched me at all in months had made it something I was almost expecting to happen.
It hurt — a lot — the first time I’d smelled perfume on his shirt, or found a phone number scrawled on a bar napkin in his pocket. But it was always something passing, something that could probably just be explained away, even if I knew deep down what was going on. So instead, I guess I’d just internalized it, as if never talking about it made it something that was just in my head.
But, this text message — yeah, there wasn’t really any denying this.
I glanced back at the phone on the counter, paused, and then reached down to unlock his screen, bringing up his messages. I looked at text again — at her tits — and felt the rage searing up inside. I tried to picture the little tramp attached to those breasts who was texting my fiancé at this hour.
I frowned at the message:
thought u were cuming over.
Were. So, he'd planned to, but hadn't? I furrowed my brow at the message.
Goddammit, I was so tired of being such a fucking pushover about everything! I knew — I knew — I should confront Tim about this, but something kept stopping me. Even now, I was figuring out how to push it to the back of my mind, with evidence right in my face!
The phone dinged again and I looked down and gasped.
The view was wider now, and clearly a selfie being taken in a bathroom mirror. The girl was topless, her tits pushed out as she struck a sexy pose for the camera in her hand. I could see the lips puckering on her face, though nothing above except for long tendrils of blond hair. She had her thumb hooked into the waistband of her panties, and had them pulled down enough to almost see her trampy little pussy.
It was the message that followed next that hit me in the gut.
dont u wanna fuck me like last time ;) ;) ;) ??
The anger welled fast inside of me. I felt betrayal, dismissal, shame. There was no denying it to myself anymore, it was right there staring me in the face. My fiancé was fucking somebody else.
I put my face in my hands, elbows on the counter, as I exhaled slowly. In a way, I felt relieved. No more second guessing myself, no more bullshit, no more thinking I was just being that woman; paranoid and accusing.
I looked down at the picture on Tim’s phone again and shook my head, shaking.
I wondered briefly where they’d met.
The phone went off again. This time I didn’t even look at it before I snatched it up and slammed it back face down on the counter.
I needed to get out of the house and clear my head.
Chapter 2
Samantha
Twenty minutes later, I was racing towards the beach — the one place where I could just escape it all and clear my head of all this.
After throwing Tim’s phone down and gritting my teeth, I’d pretty much just gone upstairs, tossed on my bikini and stomped out the door, slamming it behind me. We lived barely a mile from the beach, but right then, I wanted to feel the wind in my hair and the power of acceleration. So, I’d also snagged the keys to the Tim’s new convertible on the way out — the new, ridiculously expensive car that he’d insisted on getting, despite his total lack of job. “It’s part of the image, babe,” he’d said. “Gotta look the part.”
Right.
I squealed the tires loudly as I ripped out of our driveway.
I felt better out on the road, but I was still screaming inside about the skank my fiancé was very apparently cheating on me with. I wanted to think of her as this little home-wrecking slut, but then, who knew what story Tim had told her. In my mind though, she totally knew he was taken. In the terrible daydream in my head, the fact that he was stepping out on me was even part of their illicit affair; something they joked about or incorporated into their romps in cheap motel rooms, or wherever it was he was fucking her.
I gripped the wheel tightly and slammed on the gas, letting the wind rip through my hair and over my bare skin, classic rock blaring out of the car speakers as I raced towards the beach.
I was so tied up in my own thoughts, so preoccupied with wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now, that I never even saw the flashing lights until the damn cop was right on top of me, his siren wailing.
Fuck. Just what I needed right now.
The beach road was entirely devoid of traffic this early, as I pulled to the side of the road. The cop car squawked again as it pulled up behind me, blipping at me until I remembered to turn off my engine.
I groaned as I sank back in the bucket seat of the convertible. Honestly, could this day get any worse? Tim cheating, us running out of money, and now Bubba the fat cop was going to give me a fucking speeding ticket.
And it wasn’t even eight in the morning yet.
I glanced in my side mirror as the squad car door kicked open. I scowled, fuming and waiting for the donut-chasing good ol’ boy who was about to put the icing on my shit sundae of a day, when—
When, whoa.
Because what stepped out of that car was everything but the image of the tubby cop I’d conjured up in my head.
Yeah, I’d been way wrong.
Because what stepped out was six-feet-hello-inches of blond, tanned, gorgeous man. My jaw actually dropped as I stared at him through the side mirror, watching as he stood tall and cracked his knuckles before he set his sights on my car.
No, not my car, me — as in he looked right at me in the side-view mirror.
And he grinned.
I gasped as I quickly looked away, hands tightening at ten and two on the steering wheel.
&
nbsp; I heard the click of his boots approaching, and felt my pulse skip a little bit as I swallowed thickly and looked right ahead, not trusting myself to not glance in that mirror and get caught staring at him all over again.
"License and registration."
His voice — holy hell. The leather and slight southern drawl of that baritone snapped me right out of it, and I quickly turned to him.
I swallowed again, and I shivered.
The blond cop was built — big, broad shoulders, thick arms under the short, rolled-up sleeves of his tan uniform that stretched tight across a muscled chest. He looked clean cut, but in that slightly ruffled surfer way that only a southern California cop could pull off. Smirking a little, he looked down at me through the classic "cop" shades that he must have slipped on after he’d caught me checking him out. I blushed, realizing he was probably grinning at the fact that he’d just pulled over a girl wearing just a skimpy white bikini.
"Listen, officer, I'm so sorry about that! I think I thought I saw something dart out onto the road, so I sped up to—”
"For half a mile?"
My heart jumped into my throat as I whipped my head around to the passenger side.
A second cop, who I’d never even seen, being so preoccupied with the first.
Oh, but I was seeing him then. Every stupidly gorgeous inch of him. The second man was just as mouthwateringly built as the blond one — this guy with short cropped dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a dark scruff of stubble across his chiseled, square jaw.
Lines and swirls of tattoo ink came down one arm from the rolled-up sleeve of his uniform in this decidedly un-cop way. My eyes darted over that muscled arm, up to that stern but slightly amused face, and then up to those icy blue eyes.
"I— uh—"
"I'm gonna ask you again, miss. License and registration, right now." The first cop frowned at me as I whirled back to him, and I nodded thickly as I reached for the glove compartment.
There were two of them.
I wondered for one ridiculous second if that meant twice as heavy a toll.
The blond cop glanced at my license and papers and then walked back to the squad car with them, leaving me sitting there in my bikini feeling more and more foolish and wishing more and more that I could hit the reset button on this entire day.
"You look nervous." I turned to see the dark-haired second cop grinning at me, leaning on the passenger side window frame.
I shook my head, trying to force a smile through the glumness on my face. “Just one of those days, actually.”
“Sounds like getting pulled over is the icing on the cake, huh?”
As absolutely shitty as this day was shaping up to be, I couldn’t not notice how gorgeous he was as he leaned on the passenger side of the car. He was probably a little older than me, and I felt myself blush as he grinned at me — his look both totally charming and chillingly dark at the same time.
“Well this is just not your day, Samantha.” The blond cop was shaking his head and waving my ID papers as he walked back to my side, and I felt any possible hope I had for maybe not getting a speeding ticket on top of my already shitty day go right out the window.
“Officer?”
The blond cop stood right next to my side of the car, one strong-looking hand on the door as he passed my papers back to me and nodded seriously at his partner. “It’s not her car.”
The cop with the dark hair who’d looked so flirtatiously at me before suddenly gave me a much cooler look as he clapped his hand down on the side of the car.
“Well, seems like this really isn’t your day, miss.”
“Operating a stolen vehicle and speeding?” I turned quickly back to the blond guy, feeling my pulse start to jump
"Hey it's not stolen! It’s my fiancé’s—”
“Says here it’s registered to a Miss Amy Alden.”
Amy Alden?
Suddenly, my mind whirled to the girl on Tim’s phone, and my stomach dropped.
Holy. Shit.
Was the convertible that’d been parked in our driveway the last week and a half HER fucking car?! My head spun as I tried to begin to put together the utter gall of Tim to try and pull something like this.
“I need you to step out of the car, miss.”
I felt like I was in a fog as the cop opened the door and motioned for me to step out. In a daze, I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out on the side of the road in my bikini, feeling foolish and awful, and like I wanted to cry. The blond cop beckoned me around to the front of the convertible.
"Hands on the hood, legs spread." I gasped as the cop suddenly pushed me down across the hood of the car, metal warm against my barely clothed body. I gasped — was he actually going to give me a pat down? I was wearing a bikini, for crying out loud!
“Hey, watch where you put your—”
“I said hands on the fucking car, miss.” I froze at the dark-haired cop’s gruff voice in my ear — powerful and demanding.
"Y-yes sir." My pulse raced in my chest, pounding in my ears.
"Better."
Sure enough, I suddenly felt his strong hands on my calves, the big fingers lightly squeezing my bare skin as he worked his way up my legs all the way to my thighs. For a moment, I knew I should be terrified, not to mention incensed at what I knew was a totally unorthodox police stop. But there just something about the way his hands felt on me, and the gruff way his voice had demanded this of me. Suddenly, I felt the throbbing ache as a jolt of desire shot through me.
I felt my breath catch as his hand drifted up the back of my thigh while I stood there bent over with my hands on the hood of my fiancé’s mistress’s car. The lack of physical contact with Tim over the last few months suddenly came roaring to the forefront, as I realized this was the first time a man had touched me like this!
The cop’s big hands slipped further up my thigh, and before I could even stop myself, I realized I was pressing myself back into him as his hand slipped over my bikini-clad ass. Jesus, what was wrong with me? I mean I may have just found out my fiancé was a compete scumbag, but I was engaged to him after all! And here I was on the side of the road acting like some sort of starlet in her first porn shoot. But God, between the dark-haired cop’s hands on me, and the blond guy just standing there watching me, I suddenly felt that whatever happened then, I would be at their mercy.
Both of them. It wasn’t a fantasy I’d ever even entertained, but there on the side of the road, bent over and totally submitting to both of them like that, it came out of nowhere.
Two men.
I shivered at the naughty fantasy, made even more inappropriate by the fact that I still wondered if I was literally being arrested.
Yikes, what’s wrong with you?
I could feel him move higher behind me, his hands slipping up my bare hips and making me shiver as he slowly made his way around to my front and moved higher, higher, higher…
Suddenly, he stood, his hands abruptly dropping from me — the fantasy falling along with them.
“Alright miss, I think we can let you go with a warning this time.”
I shivered, the lingering naughty thoughts of my daydream tingling through my head, and my body still buzzing from it.
“I— really?”
The dark-haired cop grinned wickedly at me, his eyes very unashamedly wandering up and down my barely concealed body and making me blush. “Don’t let us catch you speeding again though, miss.”
The blond copped stepped closer — so close that I actually took a step back, my calves against the front grill of the car. “How about you get to the beach in one piece, hmm?”
I nodded, my heart still pounding in my chest and my skin actually missing the feel of his partner’s hands on me.
"Yes, sir.” I nodded at him, feeling bashful at how turned on I still was standing between them like this.
The blond cop took his glasses off, showing another pair of piercing blue eyes as they drifted easily over me. “I’m serious, ma’am
. Things are going to get interesting if we spot you again like this, understand?”
I nodded as they turned abruptly and walked back towards their car, leaving me panting, blinking in shock, and totally confused.
And very wet.
I remember them driving away and my stomach just dropping through the floor. I couldn’t believe what had just happened! And not just the not getting a ticket part, but the part where the cop had basically felt me up on the side of the road while his partner watched.
And of course, the part where I’d loved it.
Now, if only I'd listened to them...
Chapter 3
Dustin
The rules were, you were always supposed to let the car you pulled over drive off before you did, but she was still sitting in the car as we’d driven away.
Add to the list of rules we were definitely not following that day.
Samantha Caraway — all dark hair, blue eyes, sun-kissed skin and sinful curves was still sitting there in that white BMW convertible, hands on the wheel and a flush on her face.
Good.
My cock was still rock hard from putting my hands on her, my pulse roaring in my ears at the memory of the smoothness of her skin — the way her breath had caught as I’d slid my fingers over her hips.
That had not been smart.
“That was a stupid fucking move, by the way.”
I glanced at Blake, my partner, and best friend since before I could even remember, and frowned before looking away.
I didn’t need to be told that what’d just gone down back there was against the rules, not to mention dangerous. Believe me, I knew it.
“Jesus Christ, c’mon, man,” Blake swore, gripping the wheel of the squad car tighter, his jaw clenching when I glanced back at him. “Her? Of all the fucking women in the world you’ve gotta pull insane shit like that with, it’s her? You know—”