When they didn’t move, she upped the deep freeze. “Buying you coffee wasn’t an offer for sex.” Her tongue faltered on the word sex, as images flashed through her brain of all the possibilities available to three bodies, namely, the two of theirs and hers. She flushed.
End the conversation, Sloane.
“Sweetheart, women beg us for sex, not the other way around.” John beamed at her as if she might start begging any minute. When she didn’t, he accepted defeat and took a step back. “Well, you might consider it sometime. It could help with that monster icecap you have going there.”
His partner’s lips twisted into a rueful smile, and he hooked a large hand through Youthful Cop’s arm and tugged him back, obviously realizing his partner had crossed a line and offended her.
“Right, like I’d need to resort to screwing Super Troopers,” she spluttered. They didn’t need to know she mentioned one of her favorite movies.
Great, Sloane. Was that the best you could do?
The guys had stepped back, out of the way of her door.
“Who wants a mustache ride?” John called out one of her favorite quotes from the movie as Seasoned Cop swung the door shut.
Seasoned Cop chuckled as he continued to tug his partner away from her car.
Seriously? Monster ice cap?
As if.
The whole drive home she thought of sassier comebacks she could’ve given to the two men, and not because her panties were still damp from thoughts of how the two of them might fuck her monster ice cap off.
Two men at once? Two cops?
Insane. She needed to get that thought out of her brain as quickly as possible.
Officer John Hathaway jotted down the hot blonde’s license plate number before he met his partner’s raised eyebrows.
“You going to check her record?” Keith asked with a snort.
“Maybe.” He grinned and pocketed his notebook. As he drew a long sip of the coffee, he willed his thickened cock to relax. “Seriously, what happened back there? I know I came on too strong, but there was just something about her.”
“Yeah. There was.” Keith sounded as interested as he felt.
“For a half-second, I thought she might give us her number. She definitely thought about it.”
“Aw, don’t worry about it. I think you nailed it—she’s a little uptight. We tempted her and then she got scared of her own desires and lashed out. Don’t take it personally.”
“Okay, Dr. Phil. Or is it Dr. Drew?”
“Yeah, just bring all your sex-related problems to me. Clearly, I have it all figured out.” A shade of bitterness bled through in his voice. Apart from two threesomes they’d had with women who had a multiple cop fetish, Keith hadn’t had sex in the four years since his wife died.
They headed to the squad car but before he had a chance to punch in her license plate, dispatch called. “A silent alarm has been tripped at the Circle J on Park Ave. All vehicles in the area please respond.”
He flicked on the lights and siren and pulled out as Keith grabbed the handset. “Hathaway and Swenson responding. Estimated arrival, three minutes.”
The tires screeched a little as he rounded the bend out of the parking lot. Swenson tensed beside him, readying for the scene. They were good partners—had been from day one. Somehow, they just synchronized immediately, “getting” each other, almost like brothers, despite the fifteen-year age difference.
He turned the siren off as they grew closer, to avoid tipping off the perps. When he whipped into the Circle J parking lot, both officers jumped out of their vehicle.
A tall, skinny figure emerged, yanking a mask off his head and stuffing it in the paper bag he carried.
John drew his gun and aimed it, creeping forward. “Freeze, hands in the air!”
Keith also drew his weapon and yelled at a young woman just getting out of her car, “Get back in the vehicle. Stay down on the floor!”
The perp took off running, clutching the bag under his arm. John cursed and took off after him, Keith right behind, shouting into the radio. “In pursuit on foot, following perp southbound, behind the building. Backup requested.”
“I said, freeze, asshole,” John yelled. The young perp’s eyes were wild, which probably meant he was scared enough to be dangerous. Operating under the assumption he was armed, he would have skirted behind the cars for protection, but they all had occupants, and he wasn’t willing to draw fire toward innocent bystanders.
Thankfully, two more squad cars pulled in, and one of them whipped around behind the building to cut the perp off from behind. The second closed in behind him and Keith. In seconds, Officers Franks and Sherman were out of their car, weapons drawn.
“Freeze, right where you are! Hands in the air!”
The perp drew up short, glanced over his shoulder at John and Keith bearing down on him, and pulled up to a defeated stop. He thrust his palms in the air.
“On the ground, face down,” Keith yelled as the four officers circled the perp, each of them keeping their weapons trained on him.
The other two officers jumped out of the car behind them and worked on clearing the area of bystanders.
He darted forward and cuffed the perp then patted him down for weapons, removing the gun from his jacket pocket.
Keith came up beside him. “You went cowboy again.” His way of saying John had been too reckless, but he heard the affection in his voice. He wasn’t pissed—this time.
By the time Keith finished booking the offender and interviewing witnesses, he and John had missed all possibility of going home to change into civilian clothes before they had to represent their precinct at some judge’s retirement party. Not that he minded— much—his uniform was better than a suit any day. Still, he would have preferred to shower and freshen up first.
The pair had lost the department-wide rock, paper, scissors game or else he’d be at home with his feet up. Instead, they strolled the swanky outdoor patio of Starr Pass Resort, amidst the politicians and lawyers circling the area like sharks.
“Too many alpha males,” Keith’s wife Becky used to mutter when she had to attend these things with him. “Too many Type A personalities. It makes me want to run for the door.”
The pang didn’t hurt as much anymore when he thought of her. That bugged him. He’d never thought he’d forget her and move on. It had been only four years since she’d lost the fight to breast cancer.
John constantly tried to get him to date again. So far, it hadn’t worked. He’d never even picked up a woman on his own, although twice they’d been picked up by women wanting to fulfill their ménage a trois fantasies. He thought it’d be weird the first time—he’d have to see his partner naked, and all that, but they made a good team. They were tight. Real tight—like brothers.
“Starbucks Ice Queen, two o’clock,” John murmured.
Keith’s head jerked up, and his gaze shot across the patio. God in Heaven.
There she stood, her body-hugging black cocktail dress accenting her perfect hourglass figure. The fabric of her dress swooped around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare, the slender line of her throat set off by a simple but elegant up-do with a few wisps of blonde hair framing her face.
Whoa. She looked amazing. Like, needle screeching-across-the-record, show stoppingly gorgeous. Her figure, which had been sexy enough in her professional dress earlier in the day, now looked Hollywood-worthy.
“I’m going to get her this time,” John said, filled with determination. “You in?”
He grinned. “It’s on.”
They headed straight for her, wolves hunting their prey. She stood talking to a couple of stuffed shirts, but her gaze slid over to them and she did a double take. He was half-afraid she’d ignore them completely, or, worse, make a beeline in the opposite direction, but, to his surprise, she broke away from her cronies and headed toward them. They met her near a concrete pillar and she skirted the side of it so it hid them from view.
“I didn’t kn
ow they invited the Super Troopers.” She folded her arms across her perky breasts.
“We just booted your car, Ice Princess,” John said. “You really should’ve paid those parking tickets.”
“What parking tickets?” she spluttered. “What in the hell are you—” Catching the amusement on Keith’s face, she relaxed. “Very funny.”
He tilted his head. “Well, I’m definitely writing a ticket for that dress. It should be illegal.”
Her sensuous lips curved into a smile. “Oh, really?” She infused a heavy dose of skepticism into her words.
“On you, at least. It could incite a riot.” He stuck out his hand. “Keith Swensen.”
She gripped his palm, her slender handshake firm and professional. “Sloane Walters.”
“John Hathaway.” John offered his hand. “How do you know Judge Tell?”
She pointed to her lovely chest, giving them the excuse to ogle her cleavage. “Public defender.”
John snorted. “That explains it.”
Her jaw dropped in clear offense. “That explains what?”
“Type A personality. Never lets her hair down. Dying to get laid if only she didn’t have to touch anyone to do it.”
Her beautiful aqua eyes narrowed. “You don’t know me.”
His boyish grin appeared. “Oh yeah? What kind of woman buys two guys drinks, flirts, and then bites their heads off when they show interest?”
A flicker of regret—or defeat—flashed across her face. Keith didn’t like it. They didn’t seek to insult her or make her feel bad, but to incite her to action.
He spoke up before she could answer. “The kind who is secretly dying to know what it feels like to have two men make love to her at once.”
Their gazes tangled. His eyes went to those full, glossy lips, close enough to kiss, as he imagined what it would be like to take her mouth. His heart gave a double pump, a sort of lurch that made the hair on his arms stand up with recognition.
He’d experienced the same lurch the day he’d met Becky.
“You know what I think,” Youthful Cop—John—drawled. “I think you’re the sort of woman who actually is dying to have control taken away from her.” He looked even sexier than earlier, filling that uniform out with bulging muscles. She glanced at the handcuffs on his belt and wondered if he ever used them for sex.
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh please.”
He held up a hand. “No, hear me out. Have you ever been tied up in bed? Taken roughly?”
Her cheeks heated, lips parted, but no words came out. Her body had a visceral reaction to his words, belly fluttering, heat flooding her core.
But that couldn’t be. She didn’t have any interest in giving up control, especially not to these guys.
Did she?
John backed her up against the pillar and rested a hand beside her head, invading her personal space. Keith leaned on his shoulder on the other side. Neither one actually touched her, but her skin prickled at their nearness. “It might be just the thing you’ve been missing,” Keith said.
“I’m not interested,” she managed to say, her voice shaky.
Keith’s mouth twisted into a knowing grin. What he thought he knew, she wasn’t sure. John’s eyes dropped to her breasts. “You sure about that? Your nipples are so hard they’re poking through the fabric of your dress.”
She looked down, face growing warm. Oh God. He was right. Possibly about all of it.
“And I know you have a thing for my handcuffs because you’ve eyed them three times.”
Shit. Really?
“I’ll make you a deal. You leave here with us now, without any problems, and we’ll forget all about the way you turned polar ice cap on us earlier.”
She stared into John’s moss-green eyes, sensing only good-natured teasing under the cocky posturing. “And if I don’t?”
A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. “If you don’t, then when we do finally get you in bed, I’ll spank that perfect ass red and make you beg for every orgasm.”
Her pussy contracted. If the pillar hadn’t been holding her up, she’d have been swaying on her feet.
They knew just how to get to her, didn’t they? Her competitive side couldn’t back down from a challenge, and the sex talk? Jesus. She’d nearly orgasmed right there. And she knew she’d be safe—they were cops, after all. Despite the aggressive talk, she trusted them to respect her.
Keith, the older and the more serious one—the one with the haunted eyes—leaned over and nibbled on her ear. “We’ll make it good for you,” he murmured, and held out his hand. “Give me your keys.”
She stared at him for a long moment. If she gave in, she’d not only be saying yes to a threesome, but she’d be letting them drive, both literally and metaphorically. Could she handle giving over control?
She reached into her purse, dug out her keys, and dropped them into his palm.
“Meet you at the elevators,” Keith said.
It took her a minute to understand he intended to make it less obvious they were leaving together. She watched his back as he walked away—the wide shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, the muscular ass…
“See you in the parking lot,” John murmured, heading in the opposite direction.
Classy. These guys definitely knew their business.
She headed toward the elevator bank, her high heels clicking over the marble floors when she stepped inside.
Keith stood off to the side, casually thumbing the screen of his phone. He let her pass without making eye contact, but then followed her into the elevator before the doors swished closed. She hit the P3 button for the parking garage.
In a flash, Keith had her up against the wall, one wrist pinned beside her head, his other hand cupping her ass. The heat simmering since the moment she’d seen the cops in Starbucks burst into white-hot flames.
She lifted her face for his kiss, parted her lips for his plunder. His mouth twisted over hers, tongue swept into her mouth. She ground her hips against the thigh he’d wedged between her legs.
“We’re going to make you feel so good, baby,” he growled in her ear, just before he nipped it.
She panted, close to combusting right there in the elevator.
The elevator bell dinged and he pulled away, casual as if nothing had happened. She, on the other hand, probably had swollen lips and a dazed expression.
Keith held the passenger door open for Sloane then climbed in behind her wheel, adjusting the seat to accommodate his long legs. John idled nearby. Keith gave him a mock salute and pulled out in front to lead the way.
Following Sloane’s crisp directions, he pulled up in front of an Armory Park Victorian house.
They climbed out. A grey tabby came running down the sidewalk toward her.
“Molly!” She scooped up the cat. “What are you doing out?” Sloane frowned. “Hmm?” She rubbed her face in the fluffy fur as she led them up her porch stairs.
Dropping the cat, she unlocked the door, stepped in, and peered around as if something made her suspicious.
“What is it?” He watched her rub the back of her neck.
“Just trying to figure out how the cat got out. I know I left her in today.”
“Want me to have a look through the house?”
She shook her head with a forced smile. “No, I’m sure she just slipped out when I wasn’t paying attention.”
Keith looked around Sloane’s charming brick bungalow. They stood in the living room, which featured a large plush L-shaped red couch and a thick gold oval rug over the hardwood floor. The walls were brightly colored plaster in yellow, orange and brick and the ceilings sported the original metal ceiling tiles from the late 1800s. He only knew about that shit because he and Becky had renovated an old barrio house when they first married.
It had a warm, comfortable feel. Sloane, however, appeared uncomfortable. He’d have to take care of that.
“Okay to use your shower?” John asked, stepping p
ast them.
“Oh! Yes, down on the hall on your left.”
John disappeared and Keith stepped up close and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to a black puddle at her feet. As he’d suspected, she wasn’t wearing a bra. She stood in nothing but a pair of black satin panties. He caught her wrists. “Hands behind your back.”
She shivered, but obeyed. He slipped on the cuffs but kept them very loose. Bending close to her ear, he murmured, “Let me know if these bother you, okay, baby?”
Her shoulders visibly relaxed, and she smiled.
Keith kicked Sloane’s feet apart and slid his large palms down her outer thighs, squatting in front of her.
The moment his thumb brushed her panty-clad pussy, she jerked and attempted to shift her feet, her hands twisting in the cuffs.
“Uh uh.” He fixed her with a mock-stern gaze. “I told you not to move.”
She swallowed and drew a deep breath.
This time he pressed his mouth right up to her mons and used his teeth, biting.
Her head dropped back, and she closed her eyes.
Jesus, she was beautiful. His thumb returned to stroke her pussy over her panties, and her legs trembled at the effort of remaining still.
Holy public defender and all things glorious. John emerged from the hallway with a towel around his waist to find the most erotic visage of Sloane he could have imagined. Hands cuffed behind her back, her eyes were closed, face and perfect, peach-tipped breasts facing the ceiling. Apparently, he’d been right. She’d been dying to surrender control.
His partner had the gusset of her silky panties shoved to the side as he palmed her ass and licked into her.
The little mewl escaping her lips nearly undid him.
“My turn,” he muttered when he joined them.
Keith pulled away, appearing reluctant. Her juices glossed his beard. “She tastes like heaven.”
He grabbed Sloane’s hips and spun her around to face the arm of the couch. “Bend over, baby.”