One Night in His Custody

by Fowler, Teri

  The walk had sobered her up a little, but she was still too drunk to make much sense of what had just happened. Whatever there was between them hadn't gone away, that was certain. The years seemed to melt away, and she suddenly felt as if they'd never been apart. The realization that she was not over him, would probably never be over him, was not a welcome one. She resisted the urge to provoke him again, a little scared of what more she might discover, and they finished their walk in silence.

  She tucked a strand of what she hoped was still a sleek bob behind her ear and stopped outside a red front door. “Okay, this is it.”

  Olivia fumbled in her bag for her key and swore when she tried and failed to glide it into the tiny opening of the lock. She took off her glasses and squinted as she tried again. This time, the key slid home without resistance, and the door swung open wide. Putting a hand on the frame to steady herself, Olivia raised her foot to step through the doorway. Hoping her voice would hold just the right note of nonchalance, she turned to bid Michael goodnight.

  “Thank you for seeing me home. As you can see, I am quite—”

  Michael's face spun out of view as her foot caught the lip of the doorstep, and she tripped into the house, sending everything in her hands clattering across the hall. Olivia squeezed her eyes tight shut, bracing herself for the no doubt excruciating pain of hitting the floor, but the pain never came. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she found herself pressed against a warm body rather than the hard, cold Victorian tile of the hallway floor.

  “For God's sake! Be careful.”

  Michael's voice rumbled through his chest where her ear was pressed against it, but the words were spoken so softly, they seemed almost like a caress. She lifted her face, her gaze meeting his intense green one, about to thank him for saving her again when an overwhelming desire to cry took her by surprise. Olivia buried her face in his jacket, bunching the fabric in her hands and holding on tight as he tried to set her upright with a strong grip on her shoulders.

  “Are you all right?” Olivia gave a muffled sob, and Michael stopped trying to push her away. “Sorry. Stupid question.”

  His hands began to move in slow, soothing circles, reminding her of the gentle and respectful way he used to touch her all those years ago, usually after he'd rejected her latest attempt to get him to have sex with her. Each time he'd sworn he wanted her just as badly, but thought they should wait until after they were married. Olivia had never had the chance to find out if he'd told her the truth because they never made it to the altar.

  So he's rejecting me again? A wave of anger chased away her tears. The naive nineteen-year-old he used to know would have let him get away with it, but she didn't exist anymore. In her place stood a slightly drunk, totally pissed off, and now, mildly horny thirty-year-old who would hang up her Jimmy Choos in shame forever if she didn't give him something to remember her by before he disappeared out of her life again.

  She grabbed his helmet off his head and ran farther into the house, flying up the stairs with an agility she wouldn't have thought herself capable of. Olivia heard his curse behind her and the sound of his boots hitting the tile. For one awful moment she thought he was leaving, but then she heard her front door close and heavy footsteps getting closer.

  She tiptoed into the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar so he would know where to find her when he came to look for her. Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the straps on her bodysuit, barely managing to slip them off her shoulders it and let the outfit fall to the floor. The underwear she had on wasn't her sexiest, or even that nice, but if she got her way he would rip it off anyway, so it was probably for the best. Olivia ruffled her hair, plonked his helmet on her head and put her hands on her hips just as the door began to creak open.

  Michael froze in the doorway, his hand wrapped around the handle. The trembling in her knees got stronger as the seconds ticked by and neither of them moved. Her nerves dissipated when she heard him suck in a raspy breath, and he blinked a couple of times, as if not believing what he was seeing. Finally, he spoke.

  “Give me back my helmet.” His voice held an edge that she would never have dared challenge in the past, but things were different now. He didn't intimidate her like he used to.

  “Make me.”

  Michael released his grip on the door knob and took a step towards her, a small grin creasing his cheek but doing little to disguise the tension evident on his face. “You don't know what you're asking for.”

  The subtle threat in his words and the power radiating from him, made the breath still in her chest. But she wasn't scared ... she was more turned on that she had ever been in her life. The memory of him manhandling her earlier, and the little fantasy she'd indulged in regarding his handcuffs, sprang in to her mind. The reaction of her body made it crystal clear, even to her intoxicated brain, that she still wanted Michael, but not in the gentle way she used to fantasize about as a kid. She wanted him to take her. She wanted him to make her do things. And not to stop doing them even if she begged him to.

  Olivia reached around to undo her bra, sending Michael into action. He cleared the room in two huge strides and reached behind her to grab her wrists, stopping her from undressing further.

  “You're drunk and I'm on duty. Behave yourself.”

  “Make me behave.” Olivia stretched up on tiptoe, her lips straining to meet his. Michael allowed her the briefest touch, then pulled away, his eyes blazing with a heat that didn't match his actions. “I'll do anything you tell me to just ... please. Just this once. Please fuck me, Michael.”

  Olivia waited for his answer, her heart beating out of her chest as he stayed where he was, staring down at her with that infuriating unreadable expression on his handsome face. She dropped his gaze, unable to deal with being able to see in his eyes that he was going to reject her before he actually did.

  Disappointment gave way to desire when he released her hand and brushed his fingers across her cheek, his caress continuing down over her throat and along her collar bone. Olivia looked up at him to see his gaze was following the path his fingers had taken, then moved further down to where she desperately wished his hands would go, too.

  He let out as sigh so deep, it sounded like he'd been holding it forever. “I've never seen anything as beautiful as the color of your skin.” He fell silent as his thumb rubbed back and forth across her collarbone, but then it stilled and she knew he was going to speak again. “You want me to fuck you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, staring at his mouth as he spoke, afraid to look into his eyes again.

  “And you'll do anything and everything I ask?”

  “Anything ... everything.”

  “Then tell me exactly what you want me to do to you. And don't be shy about it.”

  Michael released her and went to sit on the edge of the bed, leaving her standing in the centre of the room with his helmet on her head and her bra half off. Olivia moved to either do it up or finish taking it off, she wasn't sure which, but it didn't matter because she never got the chance to do either.

  “Liv! Did I tell you to move?”

  “No.” Some part of her brain wanted to react to his bossy tone and tell him off for snapping at her like that. But the part of her that wanted him to take control of her thrilled to the authority in his voice and told her brain to be quiet.

  “What did I ask you to do?”

  “You asked me to tell you what I want you to do to me.”

  “And what is that?”

  Olivia dropped her head, until he told her to look at him. It was easier to stand under his intense scrutiny when she wasn't wearing her glasses, because she couldn't see him clearly enough, now he had moved across the room, to feel self-conscious about it.

  “I want you to handcuff me.”

  “Why do you want to be handcuffed?”

  “So I can't stop you doing ... things ... to me.”

  Michael chuckled. “Things? You mean like waxing your legs?”

 
; God! He isn't going to make this easy, is he? “No! I mean like, fucking me.”

  “I don't need handcuffs for that.” Michael cleared his throat, making it obvious to Olivia that he wasn't as unaffected by their conversation as he was trying to suggest. “What else?”

  “I want you to make me suck your cock. I want you to force me to my knees, tug on my hair and thrust your dick into my mouth.”

  “Good girl.”

  Olivia took a step towards him, but he raised a hand to stop her.

  “What I want most of all is for you to want me,” she said. “I want you show me how it felt to hold back all those years ago. I want everything you denied me.”

  Michael closed his eyes, his head dropping for a moment as if her words had hit him hard. When he looked up at her again, his posture was that of a man in control. “I want you to have it. All of it. But you need to do exactly as I say. Are you willing to do that?”

  “Will I be safe?”

  “Always.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  He grinned. “Only if you want it to.”

  Olivia's stomach clenched as she suffered a moment of doubt, but that sensation was immediately followed by one of intense excitement and an almost insatiable need to find out just what he wanted to do to her.

  “Then, yes. I'll try. But I'm not sure I can give you what you want.”

  “You have already given me the most important thing—your trust. You have no idea how much that means.”

  Olivia glowed at the words, her pleasure increasing at the knowledge she'd made him happy. He got to his feet and crossed to stand before her. Taking the helmet from her head, he tossed it onto the bed and cupped her face in his hands. “I'm trusting you to be honest with me and tell me truthfully if you don't want to do something, okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay, but am I allowed to ask for something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can you please just kiss me, Michael?”

  He groaned, and his hands slid into her hair, cupping the back of her head to tilt it just so. Olivia thought she might cry if his lips didn't touch hers soon, but she stood quietly as his gaze roamed her face, finally landing on her mouth as his head descended. She winced as his hand tightened in her hair, and he smiled.

  “Want me to stop?”

  “No...”

  Michael groaned and crushed his lips to hers, his tongue slipping inside her mouth to coax her into opening wider. One of his hands began to move down her body, and she expected him to slide her bra off her arms where it had been hanging loosely for the last few minutes. But instead, he placed the straps gently on her shoulders and reached around her to fasten it.

  A lump of fear lodged in her throat, and she could do no more than whisper a hoarse plea. “Please don't reject me again.”

  Her voice cracked on a sob, betraying her vulnerability to the man she'd vowed would never hurt her again. Olivia couldn't believe she'd been stupid enough to think he wanted her any more now than he ever had before.

  “I'm not rejecting you. I never really have. There's so much I don't have time to tell you now. But if, with a clear head, you agree to what I've asked you to do, then you'll understand tomorrow night.”

  “And if I decide not to play your little game?”

  “That's up to you.”

  “Well, I can't consent to something if you won't tell me what I am consenting to.”

  “Your fears are understandable but unfounded. I can promise you that you will be totally safe and I will do nothing to harm you. I can also promise you pleasure like you have never experienced before, but only if you give me your trust and completely surrender to my will.”

  Okay, so the pleasure bit sounded good. Even the way he said the word made her insides convulse. But surrendering didn't sound like fun. Olivia studied Michael as intently as she could through vision blurred by equal parts of myopia and tequila. He didn't look like the kind of jerk who seemed to think a woman's clitoris was in the back of her throat and that interminable blow-jobs would bring her the same pleasure as they did him.

  “But what exactly—”

  “Enough talking for now. I've got to go, but I need you to promise me one thing. Can you do that?”

  She nodded, her irritation at him calling the shots as per usual soothed a little by the seductive edge to his voice.

  “When I leave, I want you to crawl naked between the sheets and run your hands all over that beautiful caramel body of yours. I want you to say my name aloud when you slide a finger between your legs. And when you come, I want you to pay close attention to every sensation and know with every fiber of your being that the orgasms I can give you will feel even more incredible, be even more intense, but only if you submit to me completely.”

  The heavy throb in her groin beat harder and faster as his words filtered through the sensual fog engulfing her. The arrogant confidence oozing from his every pore should have offended her, but it didn't. Maybe it was the booze, but she knew with a conviction that was almost evangelical that he spoke the truth.

  “Will you do as I ask?”

  The hunger in his gaze as he waited for her reply made it clear how much her answer mattered to him. Olivia nodded as a blush scorched her cheeks, the desire to please him almost overwhelming her.

  “Good girl.” I want you to think about what I've said, okay? I will come by at eight tomorrow evening.”

  Olivia nodded. “Do you want me to wear anything special?”

  “I don't want you to wear anything at all. You can wear a robe to let me in, then come straight up here to your room and take it off. I will follow you up a few minutes later, and I will expect to find you here, your hands placed flat on top of that dresser, and your body open and waiting for me. And I will expect you to have removed all of your pubic hair. Is that something you are happy to do?”

  “Yes. Anything else?”

  Michael pulled her close, pressing her body against his as he rested his lips against the shell of her ear. “I want to you masturbate every time you think of me until we meet again, but, after tonight, you are not allowed to let yourself come. Are we clear?”

  “I don't know if I'll be able to help myself.”

  “Try not to, but don't lie to me about it. If you lie, I'll know ... and then I'll have to punish you.”

  “I don't like the sound of that. I'm not into pain.”

  Michael smiled. “Neither am I, or at least nothing too intense. But the punishment I am referring to is more about deprivation than it is pain. Being driven to the point of orgasm again and again, but not being allowed to come, is a far greater punishment than anything else I can think of.”

  Michael put on his helmet, making him seem even more huge and powerful than he already was. Lifting her chin with the tip of a finger, he tilted her face up towards his. A soft kiss brushed across her trembling lips, so gentle that she barely felt it. Then he left the room without a backward glance.

  Liv sagged to the bed, her body suddenly going limp as it was released from the thrall of Michael's magnetic personality. She wriggled out of her underwear and flung it across the room, still a bit annoyed that Michael hadn't been here to take it off for her. For the first time in her life though, she was sure he would have wanted to do it. That and more.

  The thought of the hungry want in his eyes sent her hands drifting upwards to her breasts. She cupped them in her palms, imagining the look Michael would have on his face if he was here to watch her. Her fingers parted to allow her nipples to poke through the gaps between her knuckles. Liv squeezed, enjoying the delicious friction she'd created. It felt so good, she almost forgot that Michael wanted her to do more than just play with her breasts. She opened her eyes and looked over towards the chair in the corner of her darkened bedroom. The brown wool throw tossed across the back of it looked almost black in the half light, and Liv was just short-sighted enough to imagine she could see Michael in his uniform, sitting in the chair.

  A spike of lust ripped th
rough her body, and her fingers plunged between her thighs, hard and fast, as she said his name out loud. Her clit swelled and throbbed in response to a touch that was harder than she usually liked it but just what she needed right at that very moment. A tremble raced up her thighs and down her torso, meeting somewhere deep inside her groin, joining with the sensations created by her fingers and sending her pelvis jerking upwards in a series of frantic, desperate thrusts. Liv strained to keep her eyes on the chair as wave after wave of white hot pleasure almost tore her apart. Her breath came in hard, painful gasps while she trembled, moaned and then wept until the last spasms of the hardest orgasm she'd ever had ebbed away.

  “Beat that, PC Williams,” Liv muttered, her voice so weak she felt more than heard herself utter the challenge.

  She turned onto her side, aware that she hadn't taken the throw pillows off the bed or bothered to remove her makeup, but she was too tired to care.

  Chapter Two

  “Get your hands off me. I've done nothin' wrong.”

  Michael hauled the youth to his feet and pushed him against a wall, holding him there with his body weight while he coughed away the urge to throw up. It had been many years since he'd had to chase someone so hard and so far. He might never have caught the lad if he hadn't stumbled off a curb and lost enough momentum for Michael to bring him down with a hard rugby tackle.

  The young man he'd been chasing wasn't faring much better and was having trouble keeping up an endless stream of obscenities and complaints while struggling to catch his breath.

  “Let me go, you stupid twat. I told you, you got the wrong fucking man.”

  “Then why did you run when I told you to stop, Jimmy?” The man was well known to the local force and was arrested almost once a month for drug related offences. If he wasn't busted selling the stuff, he was picked up for stealing to feed his habit. The endless cycle never stopped, and, unless Jimmy wised up sometime soon, death in his early twenties was the only future Michael could predict for him. Either he'd mess with the wrong person or fill his veins with more poison than he could handle, and it would all be over.