Raging Hot

by Analinn Cush

  Raging Hot (#1)

  Copyright 2014 by Analinn Cush

  Smashwords Edition

  Raging Hot

  I didn’t need anyone to tell me what my problem was, I knew better than anyone. My almost-ex-husband had told me I just wasn’t good looking or hot enough to keep him. And I let it kill my soul.

  I have some very deep anger issues.

  He claimed there was no one else, and I couldn’t prove there was. Still, what the hell? On top of all that, Miss-Dr. Holy-moly wanted to tell me how to save my marriage; a marriage to a man who made it very clear he no longer wanted me or found me attractive in any way. I have some very deep anger issues.

  Screw that. Screw him. Lois Lea Kincade-soon-to-be-no-longer-Martin was on to better things. I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin to emphasize this thought in my wandering mind and tried really, really hard to ignore the idiot moron driver in front of me weaving his car in and out through heavy traffic.

  I realize road rage is still near the top of my “need to fix” list., It ties in with my overall anger. But, honestly, stupid drivers equal danger and my irritation grew as I flew down the highway. Dumbasses driving death machines darting in and out, cutting me off, fueling my rage. Yeah, road rage, just what I needed, and Dallas-Fort Worth was ripe with it. The urge to give someone the finger called to me more strongly with each passing minute.

  I answered the call by tapping my middle finger on the steering wheel and exited the highway onto a far less traveled road near my house, blew out a sigh and ran my fingers through my newly-colored red hair.

  That’s when the motorcycle cop jumped in front of me and caused me to slam on the breaks.

  “Shhhhiiiiit!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. My window was open and the cop threw a shitty little smile my way over his right shoulder to match. I actually saw it through the face cover thing on his helmet! I spewed a slew of vulgarities in a lower tone that gave me a certain release and comfort. I could see the guy’s eyes in his rearview mirrors, staring toward me, smirking, knowing he was in the seat of authority.

  Oh, yeah, did I mention I have problems with authority, too? At least for the moment. I was working so hard to get better and this smart-ass cop didn’t help. Were all men just assholes? Or did I bring it out in them?

  At first I reined myself in, stayed behind him, not out of respect for his position, but unwilling to give him any excuse to write me a ticket. As I changed lanes, he did, too. Five times. Each time blocking my way to pass him.

  “Okay, dick-head, you wanna play games?” I asked between clenched teeth and pretended I was speaking to my ex. “Let’s play!” I accelerated.

  As the next opening appeared I punched it and flew past the bike, jumping into the spot in front of it. Blue lights went on immediately, flashing their nasty, silent signal for me to pull over.

  I kept going, pissed.

  Whoop-whoop! hooted the siren.

  “Crap!”

  But what else had I expected? Looking into my rear-view mirror I watched him dismount his motorcycle and remove his helmet. I could see that his lips were set in a sexy pout as he ran his fingers through his honey blond hair. The officer’s thick eyebrows drew together in a scowl, and he carried a little notebook in one hand, the other hand rested on his gun-belt. Completely pissed, I shoved my glasses further up on my nose and tried to strike a respectable pose as I watched the cop approach.

  “Ma’am.” He was extremely tall, I couldn’t see past his upper chest. He leaned down and took a long hard look at me. His bright blue-green eyes rested on mine for a couple seconds. I mean, he really looked into my eyes, then he started again, “Ma’am, do you know how dangerously you’re driving by staying so close behind me, then jumping in front of me like that?” He half-growled the words, clearly not pleased with my driving. His face was defined by high cheekbones and beautiful skin. His expression in that moment was none too friendly.

  Could I plead overpowering road rage? Could I get a letter from my counselor? She would attest to my uncontrollable anger issues. The man was giving me another hard look with his stunning eyes.

  “You pulled out in front of me!” I screeched, closer to his face now. He smelled good, like musk. “And how do you know I’m a Ma’am and not a Miss?” I couldn’t help but add.

  “It doesn’t matter. The fact is you’re going to be dead if you don’t get a grip.” He looked at my white-knuckled hold on my steering wheel.

  “My grip’s pretty good. I just don’t deal well with asses on the road, that’s all. People need to learn to drive!” I barked, immediately and horribly embarrassed by my behavior. Tears started down my face, which pissed me off even more. The pressure grew in my jaw as my teeth clenched. One Mississippi.....two Mississippi...three Mississippi...

  “License, please,” he said. It wasn’t a request.

  I fished my license out of my wallet and handed it over. His fingers brushed mine as he took the license, then gave it a good inspection. He looked back at me, deep-set eyes searching mine. Decisions were being made, it was clear to see, then. He moistened his full lips. As part of my “Journey to Change” I’d been reading erotic romances, which described in detail what I’d been missing out on. My therapist didn’t know about this part, but it did help with anger so she wouldn’t object. My reading habits had given me a certain visual on what happens after a man moistens his lips, his very enticing lips.

  “Look, I’m sworn to do whatever it takes to help people proceed with caution on our roads,” he offered, trying to keep his eyes off my cleavage. There! Ha! He did take a quick look, then just as quickly looked into my eyes again and cleared his throat. Mental note: buy push-up bra at earliest convenience. “And it doesn’t matter whether you’re a Miss or a Ma’am. It’s my job to keep you safe.” His piercing eyes left mine and squinted up to follow a flock of birds through the bright blue sky.

  “I’ll be safe when you and everyone else can keep yourselves from jumping in front of me in traffic.” The words flew out of my mouth. I swear, I didn’t even think them. That had been happening a lot lately. I had to stop. Period. I wouldn’t give my detractors the pleasure of seeing me carted off for anger related issues! Damn...

  I took my glasses off, rubbed my eyes, and looked up at the officer. Oh damn! Why hadn’t I put on mascara and lipstick so I might at least have a chance to get out of the ticket I know is.coming? His head was tilted as he watched me, like he was processing. I wiped at my eyes.

  “Sorry, Ma’am. It wasn’t my intention to put you in harm’s way. Now, if you promise to slow down I won’t get in front of you again or write you a ticket.” The words were a low rumble from somewhere deep inside him. “This time,” he added quickly. “You’re lucky my shift just ended or I may be forced to take you into the station.” Was that a little smile tugging at his lips?

  Was this guy flirting with me?

  I cocked my head and looked up at him, challenging. “You gonna ride me into the station on that motorcycle?” My tone came out cockier than I’d intended, in an unattractive, smart-ass sort of way.

  He just looked at me, surmising, I could see the activity behind his eyes. The uniform couldn’t hide his taut belly and enormous arms, or thighs that threatened to burst the seams of his navy blue uniform trousers. And he had a major bulge at his crotch. “Wait, aren’t cops supposed to wear helmets?”

  He smiled a sort of cocky smile and dipped his head toward where his helmet sat on the seat of his bike. Oh, hell, I’d watched him take it off.

  “You stay safe, keep your mind attention on the road and mind your driving manners,” he admonished in a warning tone. I gave him my sweetest smile and watched in my rearview mirrors as he walked to his motorcycle, replaced the helmet on his head and mounte
d the bike, throwing one large, muscled leg over the seat, settling his tight ass in for the ride.

  He let me pull out in front of him and I tossed the finger his way through my still-open window, acting nonchalant, half-hoping he saw it, half-hoping he didn’t. Perhaps my use of the finger was from some deep-seated need to feel in control over one thing in my life, especially the way the last nine months had staggered along, slamming me with one unexpected blow after the next.

  I had to admit, the encounter with the officer had been enjoyable in a strange sort of way. I didn’t understand why, but it had been nice.

  I got home fifteen minutes later and, exhausted from the week of wretched commuting topped off with today’s eventful drive home, I shuffled off to my bedroom, the one I used to share with Devin. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I took a good look at myself. Still frumpy, frumpy, frumpy. I had to do better. It was going to take more than my new red hair to change the image that had ended my marriage. The Internet searches on sexuality, style, you name it over the last months had been helpful, but I had to step up and out of my funk. I had to find a way out of this pissed-offness. I turned from the mirror, stripped down and laid my glasses on the dresser. With a deep, relaxing sigh I shuffled off to the shower.

  Warm water washed over the length of my body, and I turned so the streams could hit my nipples. They sprang to life, becoming hard, standing at full attention as I thought of the sexy cop, the way he looked at me as though I was actually something to look at. It had been longer than nine months since someone had looked at me with desire. How long had it been? I started counting back then decided I didn’t want it to ruin the moment because that water was doing it’s job and I wanted this time for myself, not Devin. That cop had really looked at me as if he were the first to see me in a long, long time.

  But, still. I knew that look was all in my mind. I would slow down on the Internet for a while. But why waste a good imagination when I needed it most? My left hand went to my right nipple and pinched it between my thumb and fore-finger, hurting it just enough to create a sharp intake of breath, causing a moan I couldn’t believe came from me.

  His name badge had said Slade Stanfield. Slade. He was younger than me, I just knew it. And I liked it. I opened my vaginal lips with seeking fingers and exposed them to the water, feeling risqué for doing something I’d never done before, nothing had ever made me feel like it doing this before. Warmth spread through my body, and I made up my mind I would no longer be the person who considered herself a victim. I let the pulsating water concentrate on my clit, hard now to match my nipples. I moaned from the thought of any man enjoying looking at me...

  Was I really that needy?

  My right hand moved down my stomach to the place I’d tried to ignore so long and made myself stop, but I had no intention of stopping now. I tugged at the little man in the boat for a moment as I kept giving my right nipple the attention it demanded. The little nub popped to attention and I moved further under the shower’s torrent, still separating my lower lips with first finger and last so the water could continue its wonderful assault. My breathing quickened as my mind conjured up wild thoughts of Officer Stanfield and I massaged my clit between my thumb and middle finger. I laughed as I remembered the finger now rolling over my pleasure center was the very same one I’d just used on the way home to show my displeasure to the exceptionally good-looking officer. Maybe road rage was a good thing! I let my hands fall to my sides and smiled all over again as I recalled how that man had looked at me.

  Tears rushed to my eyes with the memory of the hateful, belittling words my ex stabbed me with. I forced them away, thinking of Officer Slade, and went back to business – yes, the man on the motorcycle with the evil-licious looks would help me relieve the humiliation and pain.

  The warm water helped, too. I twisted my nipple between left thumb and forefinger, my right hand continued to flirt with my clit while my thoughts went back to Slade’s handsome face, the body beneath the cop suit. There was no need for me to fantasize about this guy. Beautiful women probably stalked him at every turn. He probably had a new one every night. And day.

  “No,” I said into the shower stream, meaning I would not torture myself with those thoughts. I didn’t know this guy or anything about him. I was a devastated, unattractive woman who’d been rejected by her husband and I wasn’t going to add this to the list of hurts. I had to figure out how to get better, not worse.

  I raised my hands to the rushing water to rinse away the new-found eroticism that had overcome me and opened my eyes. Through the frosted glass of the shower door I saw the outline of a man standing in the doorway of my bathroom!

  “Damn you, Devin! I told you not to come here unannounced!” I screamed, turned the water off, and threw the shower door open, anger spewing from every pore. I’d laid my glasses on the dresser in my bedroom, but I didn’t need them to see Devin had again shown up on a whim, something he’d started doing periodically a couple months ago.

  “Your door was open.” This wasn’t Devin’s voice! Holy shit!

  “Damn, that astigmatism. Why in the hell didn’t I get those contacts last week?”

  “Oh!” Fear engulfed me as I ran to reach for my towel hanging a short distance away, grabbed it and wrapped it’s thickness around me while I and squinted at the figure standing in front of me. Oh god...

  “I’m so sorry to have – um, to have found you like this. I pounded on the door. It was ajar and opened. I rang your bell. When I didn’t get a response I stepped through the door to come check on you,” entreated the man filling the bathroom door like a mountainous Greek god. “I heard you in here and couldn’t stop you because you were enjoying yourself so much. Besides I thought maybe this could help with that anger.”

  My knees buckled and the blood rushed up into my head. I felt strong arms catching me, holding me and helping me to stand.

  Slade Stanfield’s strong arms.

  “Hang on, hang on, Lois! I’ve got you. You’re all right,” he assured in a rough whisper, a total stranger with me naked in my bathroom, using my first name. He draped me over his arms, took me to the bench in front of the mirror and set me down gently. He knelt in front of me, his arms around my hips to keep me steady.

  “I...you’re...” I gasped.

  “I’m so sorry to startle you like this. I forgot to give you back your driver’s license and came to return it. It’s over there. Like I said, your front door was open and I was worried when you didn’t answer the door,” he explained, his eyes locked on mine, close enough that I could see them clearly. His hands caressed my damp hips through the towel.

  It’s time for a change isn’t it?

  I shuddered at the thought until Slade the officer gently eased his hands from my buttocks and moved them to the mid part of my back. He stood me up, my towel falling to the ground. He pulled me into him, the fabric of his shirt feeling warm and exciting against the dampness of my breasts. I couldn’t believe this was happening. He was definitely not pulling away in disgust but rather acting as if he enjoyed holding me.

  This man’s arms wrapped around me and took me to another world. I ran my hand down to his trouser zipper to actually touch what had been mere fantasy just moments before. Our eyes stayed locked.,

  “Lois...” he started.

  “What, Slade?” I cut him off and looked up into his handsome face.

  “I didn’t intend to have this kind of visit with you. I didn’t come here to –”

  I was overcome with embarrassment. He’d come here for official purposes and I’d jumped his bones. I couldn’t look at him anymore and took a step back. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I’ve been completely improper. But you feel so good,” he said and pulled me closer into him again, put his face against my neck.

  I pulled away slightly, then kissed his chin, sucking tenderly. It occurred to me that I’d never given Devin a blow job and how I might just like giving this man one. If he liked t
hat kind of thing. Devin had not. My Internet research told me Devin was an odd bird!

  Instinctively I eased to my knees and popped his growing penis out of his pants. Oh. My. God., it’s It was huge. I ran my tongue around the tip of it afraid it wouldn’t fit in my mouth. Stop! with the realization that I’m comparing Devin’s thumb dick to this. There was absolutely no comparison. He smelled so good, felt so good and he was only unzipped, not undressed. His hands went to my hair, massaging my head. I unbuttoned his pants and pulled them open. His bright white briefs were monogrammed and I lowered them with the rest of the clothes covering his bottom half.

  As if I’d done this all my life I began to suckle his swollen manhood, running my hands along the full length of that gigantic dick. Moving my hand down to his balls, which were tight with anticipation, I moved my head and mouth down his shaft and drew back, looking up into those eyes that seem to see me- – really see me. Could I be imagining this?

  The muscles in Slade’s legs began to tense. How would he taste? The thought entered my mind that he might have too much of that stuff and...What would I do with it? Swallow it like I’d read about? If he tasted anything like he had already I can could do this...with pleasure.

  In the distance I heard the doorbell ring. I pushed my mouth down the length of his hungry penis and tried to ignore the pounding tapping on the front door. It wasn’t working and I popped him out of my mouth.

  “I guess you’d better zip up so I can see who’s at the door,” I chirped like this was an ordinary occurrence and grabbed my old comfortable robe off the towel rack and started toward the front door, wrapped the snug robe around me and stopped. This old thing had been in my closet for years. What would Slade think? I must look like a granny, peeking out of the front door peep hole. Damn! I grabbed my glasses off the dressing table and moved quickly. This had better be an emergency! The ring of the bell was joined by intermittent knocking.

  “Shit!” My nosy neighbor, Glinda, standing stood at the front door, an expectant expression on her face. is