by Ada Scott
I’d take her to one of the club’s semi-private areas, and play a game of undercover-slut-chicken with her, see how far I could get before she bailed on it and had to report back that she couldn’t continue the investigation.
Maybe I could get my cock in her mouth, and she’d have to leave the club while trying to avoid any areas with black lights, because if she started sucking my hard dick, you can bet she was going to finish the job and wear some evidence. That brought the smile back to my face, which seemed to relax her a bit.
“No problem,” I said, and leaned forward again. “Listen, why don’t we-”
“Hey! You Ryan Crewe?”
I looked up and saw two guys who couldn’t have been less welcome at this point. The sloppy tats and shitty clothes were a dead giveaway that they were in the Cannibals street gang, who thought they owned this city. It never rains, but it fucking pours.
“Yeah. Excuse me for a minute,” I said to Sarina.
Scooting all the way around the booth so the hottest undercover cop in the world didn’t have to stand up, I got to my feet and ushered both of them away from our table. I glanced back and saw Sarina was doing her best to look casual, but she was straining to hear us.
She wasn’t as frightened of scary-looking motherfuckers like this as any normal woman would be. Fuck.
“Keep your voices down,” I said.
The two of them looked at each other as if I was crazy. Then the guy who had first spoken, the designated leader of the night I guessed, piped up.
“Yo, we heard you can get your hands on some F, that right?”
“Sorry, guys, I’m all out for the night,” I said.
“Oh, so you can get it, though? Well, let’s go get some more, fucker. We’ll drive you.”
Before I could even say anything, they each took a step in my direction and reached for me. I backed away, avoiding their grasp for the time being as righteous fucking indignation swelled up.
“Fuck off, shit for brains.”
It was probably not the most diplomatic thing to say, especially to these kind of people. When they weren’t getting high or committing petty or violent crimes, they were always whining about respect, but I sure as fuck didn’t respect them.
“You wanna die tonight? OK.”
The talkative one aimed a straight right in the direction of my chin, but I dodged to the left and countered with a straight right of my own that caught him flush in the nose. I saw the blood beginning to flow already as he staggered back and bumped into some girl at the edge of the dancefloor. Sarina was standing by our booth, looking like a deer in the headlights.
The silent one rushed me, swinging with a wild left hook at my head that I managed to block, but which still hit with enough force to send me stumbling back and to my left. He kept on coming, as I tried to regain my balance. The first guy knocked over the woman he’d staggered into and started in my direction again.
I got my feet properly under me again, just as another punch came whistling at me, sneaking through my guard and catching me right on the forehead. I heard the ‘thunk’ inside my head over the music and saw stars for a second, stumbling back even further.
Still, however much it hurt me, it hurt him enough to make him utilize his powers of speech. He cradled his hand for a second, it was likely broken, and cussed me out with more imagination than I would have given him credit for. Then he kept on advancing on me.
I aimed a left hook at his head, which he was forced to block with his broken hand, and followed it up with a right cross to his chin that made his legs wobbly. Unfortunately, the first Cannibal was back, and fucking furious beyond belief, raining punches on me that I barely had time to block, let alone consider countering.
He faked a right cross and I ducked, only to wind up catching a powerful uppercut right in the stomach. I immediately got nostalgic for the days when I was getting punched in the forehead, because holy fuck that hurt.
The wind was knocked out of me and I thought I’d rather get punched a thousand times in the head than one good one right in the stomach. I managed to tie his arms up enough that he wasn’t able to keep on punching me, but I saw his friend about to re-enter the fight already, and I still couldn’t breathe.
This was about to get really bad for me.
Sarina
There was nothing in Ryan’s file linking him to the Cannibals street gang, so this was something to put in the report, at the very least. If it was them that was in charge of the manufacture and distribution of F in the city, it would have actually surprised me though.
The street gangs, of which the Cannibals were the undisputed Kings of Shit Mountain in Highston, operated on a lower level than the older, more organized, and better-funded Acardi family. It was hard to imagine they had the equipment and know-how to produce a product like F on the kind of scale the department was starting to uncover.
Still, if the rumors were true, The F King was one man, and if he decided to make a deal with the Cannibals, then that might be all it took, depending on who he was. So why in the hell were these two fighting Ryan? Did he sell somewhere he wasn’t supposed to sell? Turf dispute?
If only I could have heard what they were saying over the music, but the first thing Ryan had done was pull them out of earshot. Whatever it was, it sure went south quickly.
Ryan more or less held his own against the two of them by handling them one at a time, but once he caught a punch flush in the stomach, it looked like he wouldn’t be able to stave the first one off before the second rejoined the fight.
The second gang member had something in his hand. It looked like this was about to get nasty.
I’d been told in my brief that the men in this world liked their women to be seen and not heard, candy for the arm and the eye and out of the way of the men’s business. Ryan already thought I was acting unusual, and if I stepped into a fist fight with a Cannibal, I’d be acting even less like the kind of woman who could quietly slip into his network.
On the other hand, my investigation was pretty much up shit creek if he got killed within an hour of my meeting him. I grabbed the bottle of Champagne by the neck and pulled it out of the ice bucket.
It seemed like my heart had been working overtime ever since I’d first laid eyes on Ryan. As I approached the three of them, only a few steps behind the second gang member as he rejoined the fight, I told myself that this was all for the sake of my job.
And I didn’t want to see Ryan get hurt. That was the truth bubbling under the surface. The feel of his hands and his eyes on me was more exciting than any drug he might be peddling, and more exciting than I should have let it be, if I had any choice.
Arriving only a second after Ryan became outnumbered, I swung the bottle with everything I had in an overhead arc, bringing it down on the skull of the second Cannibal. The bottle shattered, spraying all four of us with glass and Champagne.
I christen this ship the S.S Fucked Investigation!
The heavily tattooed man went straight to the floor, hitting it even before all the green shards of glass and alcoholic spray, and a butterfly knife clattered to the ground next to him. Ryan and his remaining opponent looked at me incredulously, before the gang member’s expression changed. His face was a shrine to pure rage, with his bloodied nose as a high altar.
He took a wild swing at me, which I ducked, and I landed a jab on his chin while he was still off-balance. He swung with the other hand, and I ducked again. Better to miss the bus than stand in front of it.
I landed another jab to his chin, rocking his head back just as Ryan caught his breath and hit him with a harder punch than I could muster, sending him sprawling backwards. The Cannibal groaned for a second, and that was when I realized the music had stopped and everybody in the club was looking at us.
He was just crawling to his feet when Ryan punted him in the head and it was lights out. In the aftermath of the fight, libraries were quieter than this nightclub. I wouldn’t have been surprised if somebody shushed m
e because of how loud my heart sounded in my ears.
Everybody was looking at us like we might pull out guns if they moved a muscle. Security was nowhere in sight, and the lights kept on dancing as if the music hadn’t stopped. It was the most surreal moment of my life by a long shot.
Ryan’s eyes darted from the two bodies on the floor, to the knife, to me, and then through everything again as he tried to take it all in himself. Murmurs started around the edges of the room as people started to regain their nerve and test the waters.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Ryan said.
I nodded and he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the room like we were escaping a bank robbery. The colder outside air hit me when we came through the doors and blew away some of the cobwebs that seemed to have entangled my brain, but not all.
My head was still spinning at how fast my undercover assignment had moved from all-too-easy, to pretty-much-screwed, to bar-room-brawl-train-wreck. You wouldn’t see my methodology in any textbooks, that was for sure.
Ryan whistled and a cab pulled over straight away like it was on a leash. He bundled me inside, and was barking instructions at the driver as he climbed in and closed the door.
I sat at the farthest edge of the seat as I tried to compose myself. Slightly turned towards Ryan, I could see he was staring straight ahead, breathing deeply and deliberately. Finally, he looked in my direction.
There was no way I could have predicted what I’d see written on his face when he did that, but one of the last things I expected was to see that hunger back in his expression. Yet, there it was, and he was moving across the seat with intent.
Walking on the knife edge of this undercover assignment was even more difficult than it sounded. I’d only met Ryan an hour ago, and I’d already fallen off both sides. Surely the only outcome of that would be me getting cut.
Against everything my briefing and life experience had told me about what was expected of me, Ryan wasn’t intimidated by the way I’d involved myself in the fight. If anything, he was experiencing the same rush of adrenaline I was, his body seeking an outlet for all that energy and excitement, and I was right in the firing line.
I should have remembered how to play it cool, to find my inner tease to string him along, but against all my better judgement, against everything that was right for my career and the investigation, I wanted to be wanted in that moment. There was something so basic and animalistic about the need, I was almost powerless to fight it.
To fight, win and be adored was a desire deeply ingrained into everybody. After so many fights, losses, wins and disdain… I was more desperate to be admired than was good for me.
Ryan pushed one of my knees aside and invaded my personal space in his most self-assured move yet. I pushed against his chest weakly, some overwhelmed part of my brain still putting up some kind of resistance, but when he buried his hand in the hair at the back of my head, held me firm, and leaned in, all I could do was lick my lips.
Ryan
This sexy little thing looked even more at home in a fight than she did on the dancefloor. Her balance and reactions were like somebody on F-Pro, but those piercing eyes of hers stayed so clear, she was a fucking work of art.
Was she a cop? Probably… but my cock was harder for her than any of those club sluts who were always hanging around. I saw Sarina panting with the rush of the fight, and I was literally aching for her. The only thing that could soothe me was feeling that hot pussy wrapped so fucking tightly around my shaft that I’d have to fuck her with everything I had just to fuck her at all.
When I pushed her leg to the side and moved closer, grabbing her by the hair at the back of her head, all she could do was lick her lips and wait for me. I moved closer and paused with my mouth a fraction of an inch away from hers, teasing her with how near I was.
I could feel her breath puffing out quick and shallow against me, so nervous about screwing up her case, but so excited by the fight and by how close I was all at the same time. She twitched as she fought with herself and I basked in her inner turmoil.
Three seconds. That’s how long she managed to restrain herself, poised on the brink of our kiss, before she closed the last tiny distance between us. I knew she’d either stepped over some police bylaw or her own personal barriers, and she was giving me something she really hadn’t expected to at the start of the night.
Well, I was going to take a whole lot more. As much as I could. Make her write the most embarrassing report an undercover cop ever had to write.
She inhaled sharply through her nose, then whimpered in the midst of our kiss. I could feel the faint vibrations through her lips as I took her breath away.
I gripped her hair tighter and tighter, never relenting with the kiss, until the sting made her whimper again and squirm in her seat. Fuck I needed to feel that body writhing against me as I powered my cock into her depths. I bet she was even better at fucking than she had been at fighting, her body was the embodiment of sex.
“Hey! No fucking in my cab!” The driver said.
I broke off our kiss to turn to him. “Shut the fuck up and do your job, if you know what’s good for you. Eyes on the road, motherfucker.”
He looked pissed but he did what he was told. Besides, he didn’t have to worry about me fucking her here. Did he really think I was going to fuck a girl like Sarina in front of him? Share a girl this hot? He was fucking dreaming.
I returned my attentions to Sarina and pulled her head to the side, exposing her neck. I could see a vein pulsing frantically as she caught her breath post-kiss, and I touched my lips against her skin almost like a vampire with his most willing victim.
She gasped when I sucked hard, leaving my mark on her as surely as she was getting wet right now. Her skin tasted like vanilla and the faintest hint of cinnamon spice, so fucking good.
I licked and sucked my way up to just under her ear, which was like a wiggle-switch for her. Something about being kissed there was driving her fucking crazy, and if I was reading her body language right, she’d make a mess on this poor cabbie’s seats if I kept at it long enough.
Her hips gyrated sensually, unconsciously seeking out something to grind her hot little pussy against, and I listened to her panting get louder and faster with every movement of my lips against her skin. I pulled away before she came and pressed my lips against hers, feeling the desperate puffs of air from her nose as she tried to get the oxygen she needed to fuel the excitement my touch had ignited in her.
I used her struggle to my advantage, slipping my hand up her thigh while she was distracted, under her skirt, and kissing hard. Her hand fell on to my wrist as if she was going to push me away, and I stopped, calling her bluff.
When I didn’t push for a few seconds, I felt an almost imperceptible tug and I couldn’t help but smile in triumph, leaning my forehead against hers. Sarina knew it too, and quickly turned away, as if she couldn’t handle watching herself give in to these feelings.
I resumed my intoxicating journey up her silky smooth leg and felt the faint crease where her thigh met her firm little peach of a rear end, and I paused for a moment to savor this newly conquered ground. Sarina moved her hand behind my neck as I slipped my fingertips under the elastic of her panties and gripped her ass cheek.
The feel of her flesh pressed against the palm of my hand drove me almost as wild as kissing Sarina’s neck drove her. I wanted to squeeze her ass so tight that my hand prints would be bruised into her skin for weeks and she’d know every time she looked in the mirror exactly where I was holding when I impaled her on my cock.
The driver pulled over in front of my building, and I caught the stinkeye from him in the rearview mirror when I looked up. The meter read a little under twenty bucks, but the first note I pulled out of my pocket was a fifty, so I threw that in his direction.
“Keep the change, don’t be a stranger,” I said as I bundled Sarina out of the taxi.
The cabbie didn’t spare me any words, pulling away at th
e same time as I was closing the door. Sarina was hugging herself on the sidewalk.
“I-” she began.
I cut her off with a kiss, before bending down and lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around me, and I carried her to the door. My cock was straining against my pants, seeking out the heat I could sense radiating from her pussy like a homing beacon. So close. Tight, wet, heaven was so close.
Performing a modern-day miracle, I managed to extract my wallet from my pocket without dropping my phone, keys, wad of cash or Sarina, and pressed it against the little device that read the security card. The door buzzed and I pried it open and headed towards the elevator.
Sarina had her arms wrapped around my neck now, fingers running through my hair as she kissed me back almost as hard as I kissed her. Our tongues sparred for supremacy, with hers starting from the higher ground.
Her breasts were tantalizingly close to my head-height. If our lip-lock ended in time, I would taste her curves like I’d tasted her neck, see her supple skin tingle with goosebumps as my licks cooled in the air.
My moment came when I had to glance away to look for the elevator call button. Once it was lit up, I turned my attention back to Sarina and kissed the upper slopes of her breasts.
Sarina threw her head back, held her breath for a second, and sighed in pleasure. I could feel her long hair brushing against my hands, as her chest pushed against me.
Even with all the determination, tongue-dexterity and incentive in the world, I couldn’t get as far as her nipples, which remained hidden in her bra. I would change that before the end of the night.
The elevator doors opened and I walked us in, pressing the button for the twenty-seventh floor. I turned to the side and paused for a second, then pushed us against the side of the elevator, hard enough that a little whoosh of air came from Sarina’s mouth and her firm tits wobbled right in front of me.