Hot Cop: A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Natasha L. Black

  “No, I can’t. Brody, it’s too much. It’s too good—I can’t—Brody! Oh!“ I broke off when his mouth covered mine again, a tender, deep kiss that shook me to my core. I felt a tear slip out of the corner of my eye as I came, clamping tight around his fingers and bucking against his touch. I flung my arms around him and held on, shaken. He withdrew his fingers and folded me in his arms. He kissed my hair and whispered to me, sweet things I almost couldn’t bear to hear.

  “You’re so beautiful, do you hear me? I love hearing you say my name when you’re coming apart. I love how wet you get. I can feel how much you want me. It’s so sexy, Laura. I can’t get enough of you. I could make you come like this all night.”

  I just burrowed into his chest, nestling into him, hiding my face. The orgasm had been so strong, so powerful. It made me emotional and I didn’t want him to see that, especially not after I’d said what I said earlier. He just held me, and it felt so damn good. I loved being held by him. I drew in a ragged breath and sighed.

  I was stroking his chest. It was insanely ripped and glorious and I wanted to eat things off of it, lick him clean. I kissed his chest, traced the line of muscle down between his pecs and down the center of his hard abs that twitched at my slightest touch. His hot, smooth skin was an aphrodisiac on its own. I loved feeling him tremble. I pulled him down on the bed beside me, facing me. I threw a bare leg over his strong thigh.

  “It’s a tight fit,” I said, “but you like it tight, don’t you?”

  “You mean the mattress or the hot, tight little pussy I had my fingers in? Because that felt like heaven. The bed is definitely too small. I want to make sure it’s good for you,” he said.

  He backed up to the headboard and pulled me across his lap. I straddled him. Face to face was so… intimate. His hands were on my bare back. I looked down at the thick cock bobbing between us. Brushing my stomach and leaving a kiss of wetness there. I shuddered at the touch of his hard length. He raised me by my hips and took his cock in hand. I held my breath, practically faint from the steamy look in his eyes and the way he was brushing the hot head of his erection through the outer folds of my sex.

  “Please, Brody, please, please,” I said, almost a chant in rhythm with the patient, infuriating stroke of his cock between my thighs.

  “Hold on to my shoulders,” he instructed, and I did what he told me as if my body were under his control. “If it’s too much, tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t be too much for me,” I said, more brash than I felt with that pipe of a cock poised between my legs. I wanted it so much.

  “You have to tell me. Let me know how it feels,” he said, gritting his teeth. I couldn’t know what it cost him to control himself so tightly.

  With that, he pressed the crown of his erection to my sex. I felt him flare against me, part my folds. I arched my back, wanting more. He fed it into me, just one inch. I rolled down, taking another inch. He groaned as I slid down his length, and the cords in his neck stood out as if he were desperately braced under some massive weight. His hands on my hips held me steady as he thrust in deeper. I gasped. The girth of that stiff cock in me was rubbing me in places that had never been touched, igniting sensations I couldn’t describe.

  “Oh God, you’re deeper than anyone’s ever been. Nobody has ever filled me like this, Brody,” I said raggedly, taking more of him, my head dropping back in the ecstasy of being filled so.

  “Is it too much?” he managed through gritted teeth.

  With effort, I lifted my head and shook it, “No, I want it. I want all of you.”

  He groaned and thrust forward into me. It took my breath, the sheer size of him. He wrapped his arms around me, buried his head in the crook of my neck. I could hear him breathing hard, trying to keep still. He was cradling me against his body as if to protect me.

  The man was going to stay completely still even if it made his eyes explode out of his head before he thrust in again and risked hurting me at all. I rained kisses on his face, braced my hands on his shoulders, and I began to rock. I rolled my hips forward and back, swiveled them, every movement grinding his cock into me, burrowing him inside me so deeply. We were pressed tightly against each other. I could feel his abdominal muscles tense when I rubbed against him. I was rolling my hips faster, loving the way his cock brushed against some spot inside me that seemed to light up all my senses. He caught my hips again and held me still. I looked up and met his eyes.

  “You can move,” I said. “You feel so good to me.”

  Brody leaned in and kissed my lips then, nipping at them softly, making my body go molten with desire. I held his biceps, those big upper arms, and rocked into his kiss. He started to thrust into me again, pumping his hips, bucking into me. I moved with him, caught his rhythm, and it felt so smooth and so right. Before I could even register the sizzle between us, the urgency in his passionate kiss, his thrusts sped up, taking me higher. It felt like champagne bubbles bursting all through my body. My orgasm was a euphoria I’d never experienced. I clung to him, trembling, my inner muscles convulsing around his cock.

  “Oh God, Laura, Laura—“ he cried. I felt it, as if it were my own orgasm, when Brody came. The swift tightening of his entire body, and then the pounding release as he rolled me over onto my back and thrust deep once, twice, his orgasm thundering through me in a hot gush that made my back bow and my head tip back. He kissed my throat even as his body went rigid in my arms.

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from that. From the sheer intimacy of Brody taking me raw on my twin bed in the room I grew up in. His eyes on mine, his lips on mine, every part of us tangled together. He had one of my hands in his, our fingers laced together. He rolled onto his side and pulled me with him. He managed to drag the comforter out from under us and cover me with it.

  He drew me into his arms and let me rest my cheek on his chest. All the tension and awkwardness went out of my body then. He felt like home. So so much.

  I laughed, “This is my childhood room.”

  “Yeah, well I hope those posters aren’t new.”

  “Judge all you want. The point is, I used to fantasize about you while I laid in this bed, when I was a teenager, and you were already grown up. I had such a crush on you.”

  “That makes me feel like a dirty old man,” he said.

  “Aw you’re not that old,” I teased, “but you’re plenty dirty. Say that with pride.”

  “Now you’ve made it weird,” he said.

  “Have not. It was already weird. Also it was steamy and incredible. You were so—good to me, Brody,” I said almost shyly.

  He wasn’t looking at me. He still held me, but I felt the tension in his arms, where he’d been relaxed before.

  “Hey, I wasn’t trying to freak you out,” I said, reaching up and touching his face.

  “I’m fine. You still can’t stay here alone though. Are you going to Damon’s or to my house?”

  “I could go to Rachel’s I guess, but it’s her day off. The last thing I wanna do is wake a woman who has to be at work at five in the morning every other day of the week.”

  “Damon’s then?”

  “I don’t want to wake them either. If he’s lucky he got them settled, and my parents are back asleep. If I show up now, my mom’ll get up and want to know details about the investigation and stuff.”

  “Then you’re coming to my house. Grab some stuff.”

  He rolled off the bed and pulled on his jeans faster than I could’ve believed. Son of a bitch. Talk about hit it and quit it. He killed my cozy afterglow buzz. I got up and went into the bathroom. I washed up and brushed my messy hair. I could barely look my reflection in the eye, flushed and with fevered eyes. I pulled on some clothes I’d left on the hook to workout in. I grabbed the few things I’d need and shoved them in a tote bag along with a clean uniform and another change of clothes. I pulled on my sneakers and nodded, ready to go. I grabbed a baseball cap as I was leaving and dragged my ponytail through the b
ack of it. Even though there was no sun up to shield my eyes from, it felt like it protected me a little. I didn’t even glance at my mangled car door covered in fingerprinting dust as I passed it and got in his truck. He drove me to his house and I followed him in.

  I wondered if he’d ask me to share his bed, if he had meant anything he said to me earlier. He showed me the guest room and said the bathroom was next to it. Then he shuffled down the hall and went into his own room and shut the door. That answered that question. Now I was confused, disappointed and miserable. This didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped at all.

  20

  Brody

  Punching the pillow and flipping it over, I turned my back to the wall that my bedroom shared with the guestroom. Just a couple layers of sheetrock between Laura and me. I wouldn’t even look in that direction. She wasn’t the first woman I’d slept with since I was widowed, but she was the first one I’d cared about. It had affected me, sleeping with her. Why had I chosen that position—face to face, her cradled in my lap and in my arms? If I’d just had her from behind like in my fantasy, maybe I could’ve disconnected, could’ve made it about slaking my lust and attraction for her. Instead, she’d been gazing into my eyes like she saw my soul, and she said she fucking loved me. Admittedly, I’d just made her come really hard, so it could’ve been that. I could brush that off as a slip of the tongue, something random she blurted out because I’d made her feel good. But that didn’t wash away the residue of what I felt for her.

  She was my subordinate at work, which was a major problem. She was Damon’s little sister, which disrespected our friendship, plus the guy would probably try to run me over with his truck if he found out I had hooked up with his sister. Then there was the third and sharpest point of the going-straight-to-hell pitchfork I was speared on. She made me forget about my wife. With the three women I’d picked up over the years, I’d just gone blank. I hadn’t felt anything beyond the physical. If I had tried to access my feelings, it would’ve been a vortex of missing my dead wife and wondering if I might as well have died when she did, since I was basically missing out on any ability to be present or feel things any longer. The numbness had set in when she was in hospice. I’d grieved the night she died, but mostly I’d walked through life in this fog of moving forward without feeling anything at all. Laura blazed back into town and turned everything Technicolor on me. I was waking up, painfully, and the fact that I cared about her wasn’t just unwelcome—it ached like an atrophied muscle I was trying to use again. It was too late. And it was plain wrong of me to pursue her or go to bed with her or lead her on like there was any future at all, even a week or two. I knew in my blood and bones that that part of my life was over. I couldn’t even reach the part of me that had existed once, idealistic and hopeful and capable of falling in love. I was a shell, walking a path, trying to protect my town and do the right thing. Tonight I’d done the wrong thing. And I didn’t know how to take it back. Worst of all, I didn’t know if I really wanted to.

  I didn’t sleep at all, not even close. When I saw her in the kitchen at six-thirty, she just nodded to me, aloof. I didn’t know if she was just embarrassed or if she really regretted being with me. Either way, from the way she crossed her arms to the monosyllables she answered me with when I tried to talk to her, everything about her attitude said to leave her alone. We rode to work together in awkward silence. Clint was waiting when we walked in.

  “We got a lead on who the guy is,” he said. “Some drifter out of West Virginia, been picked up a couple times for vagrancy and a few petty thefts over the last year. I got the department out of Huntington, where his last arrest was, to fax us the file on him.”

  Clint handed me a sheaf of papers.

  “Thanks, man. Good work,” I said, and went into my office to do some digging.

  I logged in to a database and searched a few of his more recent arrests, all misdemeanor theft, one public indecency for pissing on board a municipal bus. I searched the local papers from around the time of his arrests to see if there was any media coverage. The last five times he was picked up for a petty crime, a young woman had disappeared from the area within forty-eight hours. Once or twice might have been a coincidence, but the unexplained disappearance of teenage girls occurring in a predictable interval from his release and as he left town was a pattern. A chilling one.

  The time relationship was too circumstantial to tie him to any crimes without further evidence, but it was a damning trend. Further digging revealed that none of the five girls had been located, one of whom had been missing ten months now. They were probably dead, a string of shallow graves across a couple southern states. Souvenirs he took with him when the local cops hassled him. I looked at our records, but he hadn’t received any citations in our county. Not even anyone matching his description had been picked up for so much as public drunkenness. But if he was the guy with the hoodie, the one who bought the burner phone, then there had to be some link. I texted all the guys on my force and asked if they’d encountered the man in the photo I sent them. Then I had to grapple with the fact that what had looked like an isolated runaway or abduction was now shaping up like a serial homicide.

  More than that. A killer with his sights set on Laura. I got on the intercom and asked Mrs. Rook to send her into my office. I didn’t care how uncomfortable the conversation was going to be. I had to warn her that this guy who was after her, who carved a warning into her car, could be more dangerous than we first thought.

  When she came in, she stood almost at attention just inside the door, “You wanted to see me,” she said.

  “Have a seat. It’s not about anything personal. The guy Clint got an ID on, the same one from the Giant Foods Mart and the one who probably trashed your car—it seems like he has a pattern of getting picked up for a misdemeanor, being released and then, a young girl disappears right after that. Five so far, not counting Becky Simms or the girl from Overton. That’s in the last year. So this could conceivably shape up to be a serial killer situation. And if he’s got an eye on you, which we think he does—”

  “Then we can use me as bait,” she said.

  “No. We’re not gonna use you as bait,” I said, the thought making me cold. “Stop and think for a minute. He may not have been trying to warn you off his trail. He may have been letting you know he’s coming for you.”

  21

  Laura

  What he said rattled me, whether I wanted to admit it or not.

  “I get it. I’m a cop. I’ve been on dangerous cases before,” I said, trying to shake it off. “I just don’t want him coming after my parents. My dad isn’t doing great to begin with, and added stress is bad for his blood pressure.”

  “Want me to give Damon a heads up?”

  “No, I’ll call him.” I got up. “Was that all?”

  “Yeah. Keep your head on a swivel, Vance. He’s out there.”

  I nodded. When I called Damon, he agreed to take a few days off and stick close to home to watch out for Mom and Dad. There was no way we were telling them why. He could do some of his online trainings and say he just needed to catch up on those. He’d keep an eye on them, which made me feel better. I hung up the phone and rubbed my hands over my face, not sure what to do with myself.

  Just then, Brody came up to my desk, “We got a lead, come on.”

  I followed him to the car and he filled me in.

  “There was a tip called in at Overton, some maid at a motel by the exit 29 saw a guy with two teen girls that looked like the ones on TV. She phoned it in, and Overton called me because we’re closer. Maybe we can get him.”

  ‘They’re alive. We have somebody that saw them alive,” I said, grasping at that hope.

  “Or somebody who thinks it’s them. Even if it’s not Becky and the Overton girl, something shady’s going on if a grown man has two teenagers in a cheap motel room. Could be trafficking, could be a bad custody dispute. We need to get involved. I’m not gonna let some creep take off with a couple kid
s or do God knows what to them in the Evergreen Motel.”

  I nodded and rode along, heart pounding. It could be over in half an hour. We could get him, free the girls, and it would be over. My parents could come home, I could quit biting my nails over a possible serial killer watching me, and life could go back to normal. I could pretend like I never had sex with Brody Peters.

  Outside the seedy-looking motel, an Overton cop got out of an unmarked cruiser and shook hands with Brody. We planned to go in on a no-knock warrant and find out who was in that room. We headed for the ratty-looking stairway and up to the second floor. When we reached the door of number twenty-two, I had my hand on my stun gun, ready. Brody tried for the knob and the door swung open. We stepped in and looked around, but it was an empty room. It looked like it had been vacated in a hurry. There were takeout bags on the floor, the remote still on the bed, and something on the covers. I stepped forward and bent down to look.

  “Come here,” I said, “look.”

  I pointed, “Get me a bag. I got gloves.” I pulled on a latex glove and picked up a tiny gold hoop earring with one bezel set sapphire on it. “That’s Becky’s birthstone. Her mom said she never takes these off. She got them last Christmas. And it’s a post earring, not a hook, so it wouldn’t come off by accident. The earring back is on it. This has been removed carefully. Like she left it for us to find, Brody,” I said excitedly as I put it in an evidence bag and scrawled a brief description.