Doctor Babymaker

by Madison Faye

  I laughed, my cock still rock hard. “Got it.”

  I knew the job was just to watch her. I knew the job was to observe, report, and stay the fuck away from her.

  But I also knew one more thing: I knew that after putting my hands on Samantha Caraway once, there wasn’t a chance in hell I wasn’t going to do everything I could to make it happen again.

  I would get my hands on her again, and next time?

  Next time I wasn’t just going to use my hands.

  4

  Samanatha

  With a deep groan, I sank back into the canvas of the chair, pushing my toes out through the sand as I stretched back and relaxed. The warmth of the summer sun radiated down on my bare skin, making my body tingle and glow under the mid-day heat. I closed my eyes behind my shades as I let myself totally relax out here in my element.

  I loved the beach in the summertime; loved the way my bikini-clad body soaked up the sun and the way I could just relax out here.

  Of course, I was hardly relaxing at the moment. My entire head was still back there on the side of the road; my whole body still bent over, spread, thrilling at the feel of the cop’s hands on my skin. I tried to let it all go, tried to clear my head and just let myself stare out at the ocean and relax. But try as I might, I couldn’t get out of my own head.

  First, it was feeling the betrayal in my kitchen that morning, looking at the graphic pictures of the girl my fiancé was cheating on me with. But then being made to submit like that on the side of the road by those two hunky, commanding cops had added an entirely new element to the already confused emotions coursing through my head.

  I squirmed in my beach chair, squeezing my thighs together and blushing behind my sunglasses as I felt the lips of my pussy rub deliciously together, still slippery with the heat of that moment on the side of the road.

  Clearing my head be damned, the fantasy came rushing back full-force. In my head, I pictured the two cops walking up to me right there on the beach.

  “Miss, that bikini is a bit too small for a place like this. We’re going to have to issue you a ticket. That is, unless you DO something for us…”

  I could feel my cheeks go bright pink, from much more than the hot California sun as I let the fantasy play out in my head. I pictured the already sexually-charged pat-down from earlier getting even more physical. In my head, both of them were running their hands over me, pulling my bikini from my body and bending me over the car right there on the side of the road, the two of them taking turns and…and…

  Yikes, get a grip lady!

  Biting my lip, I looked around the empty beach. It was nine in the morning on a Tuesday — hardly prime beach time, especially at the more private, residents-only one off the beaten path here in our town. I could see one solitary other figure in a beach chair way down the shore, and much closer to the parking lot, but that was it.

  Realizing I was basically alone with my fantasies lit a sort of a fire in me, and I suddenly felt myself thinking bolder and naughtier thoughts than I’d ever usually dream of. It felt so forbiddingly taboo to indulge the fantasy, to let my nipples tingle to hard buds beneath my bikini top, my aching pussy slowly getting wetter and wetter under my bottoms. I found myself moaning softly as I gently squeezed my thighs together, feeling the heat of my desire throbbing there as my aching clit begged for attention. I brought myself right back to the fantasy, there on the side of the road with the two muscled men in uniform.

  I let my hand trail down to my waist, and then down over my hips to trail my fingertip up the edge of my suit by my thigh. I pictured the two cops tearing my suit from my body, making me gasp as my body was exposed to them.

  I glanced around the empty beach once more, before I slowly pushed my fingertip beneath the suit and moaned as it slid over my lips. I slipped the finger up higher, feeling the sticky wetness of my opening and dragging it up to my throbbing clit as I slowly moved my fingers over myself beneath my bikini bottoms.

  Yeah, it had been entirely too long since I’d been touched. So much so that a pat-down on the side of the road had my body needing release.

  I tried to imagine what sort of cocks the two of them had underneath those tight, crisp uniforms. I pictured them coming up on both sides of me, kissing my lips and my neck as two sets of hands roamed my body and two big hard cocks pressed into me.

  Spreading my legs as wide as I dared, I eased a finger into my tight slit as I brought my other hand down to slip beneath my bottoms and rubbed my needy, aching clit. I began to fuck myself slowly, easing a finger in and out of my tight opening as I moved my other fingertips in small deliberate circles around my clit.

  Thinking of two big men taking me hard on the side of the road, and thrilling at how brazen I was being despite the beach being obviously empty had me gasping in no time. My fingers rolled over my clit, the heat came rushing through my body, and I came — hard. Biting my lip to be as quiet as possible, I felt my whole body seize up and release as my subtle, desperate climax ripped through me there in my beach chair, while I thought of the two hunky cops.

  There was a scrawled note on the kitchen counter from Tim when I got home late in the afternoon.

  “Went out for a while with a potential job prospect. Please ask before you take the convertible, Sam.”

  That was it.

  “Please ask before you—”

  Oh, fuck off, Tim.

  I wasn’t sure what I was even going to say to him when I came home, or even if I was going to say anything at all. But finding him gone took the wind out of my sails right there. And that whole bullshit about a “job prospect”? Please.

  I ignored the storm raging through my head as I poured myself a healthy glass of chardonnay.

  Suddenly, I froze. Jesus, I knew exactly what he was doing. I could picture him, groggily waking up from his bender the night before, coming downstairs for coffee, seeing his phone where he’d assumed he’d probably left it the night before. He’d probably felt relieved that I hadn’t seen it, especially when he’d opened it up to see the messages from her.

  Her.

  That’s where he was right then. Suddenly, I felt like even more of an idiot. Just earlier, I’d actually admonished myself for having even a fantasy about another man — or men — while my cheating, scumbag fiancé was on his way to actually see another girl!

  I gritted my teeth and started to storm out of the house, when I stopped. There, over on the side table was his phone, just sitting there.

  I walked over to it, and slowly found myself picking it up and opening it up. There, right there, was the same text message conversation with the same little slut from before. Only now, instead of a picture on the screen, there was an address.

  I bit my lip, staring at the address. I knew this was a terrible idea. And maybe the glass of wine I’d already half-slugged down had gone to my head more than I’d realized, but I didn’t even stop to consider turning around until I was past that point anyways, speeding off in the convertible.

  5

  Blake

  The squad car jerked as I swung sharply into the parking lot, Dustin swearing next to me as I took the corner hard.

  “Fuck, man.”

  I shot him a glance. “Sorry,” I muttered, feeling the clawing feeling digging inside of me as I braked hard into the parking space out front of the coffee shop. I could feel the all-too-familiar need raging inside — the demon of addiction that I kept locked up tight in there with an iron chain.

  But locked up didn’t mean he wasn’t loud as fuck sometimes.

  I’d been sober for four years now, and I loved it. I was sharper, and healthier, and just better in every aspect of my life without the guy I used to be fucking shit up anymore. But that didn’t mean I didn’t still have days where I felt like I could murder for a sip of whiskey.

  And on those days? Well on those days, I drowned that screaming craving down with my new addiction.

  Caffeine.

  “Got it bad, huh?”

/>   I glanced at Dustin as I shut the car off, my jaw clenching, my teeth grinding, the roaring of my addiction threatening to explode out of me.

  I nodded, and his face went grim.

  “You want to call anyone?”

  I shook my head. “I’m good. Just…”

  “Black, one sugar?”

  I nodded again, breathing heavily.

  “I got you, man. Sit tight.”

  My friend was out of the car in a second, jogging to the door of the coffee shop.

  Dustin had seen me through the worst of it, back then. We’d been best friends since, well, shit, I don’t even know since when. Before I could remember, that’s for sure. We’d done it all together, growing up across the street from each other — playing with GI Joe’s, taking on bullies on the playground, playing football, chasing girls.

  Hell, we’d lost our virginities on the same night, to the same damn girl, at the same time.

  Well, technically speaking, Dustin had lost his first — something he’d never gotten tired of jokingly reminding me of over the years.

  After school, we’d gone to the same college to play ball, signed up on the same day for the Marines, and done two tours together in Afghanistan. We’d come back home to SoCal, breezed the policeman’s exam, aced our detective’s tests, and now here we were.

  But the short of it was, my friend was the closest thing to a brother I’d ever had, and vice versa.

  We’d both found beer young, I guess. And we’d both enjoyed partying over the years, but there was always something about me and booze that never clicked right. Something in my genetics or something. Long story short though, four years ago, Dustin had saved my damn life when he’d shoved me against the wall one particularly rough morning and screamed at me that he wasn’t going to watch me slowly kill myself anymore. He’d put his service gun in my hands, jabbed a finger in my chest, and told me if I was that set on meeting my maker, I could take the fast lane right then and there.

  I went to my first meeting that morning, and I’ve been sober ever since.

  But again, sober doesn’t mean you never think about it. Stress and emotion bring it out, of course, but I’d spent the last four years mastering self-control and keeping myself in check.

  She wrecked that.

  She took that control and shattered it from me. Watching Samantha this last month had shaken me to my core. Watching this girl and slowly realizing how goddamn incredible she was in that almost unbelievable way had tested that self-control.

  Coming face-to-face with her today, in that fucking bikini, and watching Dustin spread her across the hood of her car and let his hands wander over those curves?

  Yeah, self-control gone. I was shaking with the need for something — clawing out of my own skin with the need to give in, to throw the rest of my self-control away.

  My blood boiled, my head swam, and my cock was throbbing hard in my uniform, just thinking about her.

  The passenger door slammed shut, and I blinked, my head clearing slightly.

  “Here. Drink up.”

  I shot my friend a look as I gratefully took the steaming cup of coffee. “Poor choice of words, pal.”

  He snorted. “Sorry, dude.”

  I shook my head, laughing quietly before gratefully sucking down the scalding hot brew. “Thanks for this.”

  “Anytime.” Dustin looked at me carefully. “This about—”

  “Her? Yeah. Obviously.”

  He swore under his breath. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have, I just…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I just—”

  “Can’t help it?” I swore myself, taking another sip from the styrofoam cup. “Believe me, I know the feeling.”

  “What’s going to happen to her? I mean, after the FBI moves in on this whole thing and ol’ Tim gets locked up for helping drug dealers falsify shipping reports and legal docs?”

  “Well, she’ll be done with him, so there’s that. And she’s got nothing to do with this — that you and I can attest to. So, she’s not in trouble or anything.”

  Dustin’s jaw tightened. “They’ll be after her, you know. The Mexicans. When Tim gets nabbed with the rest of them and she walks, they’ll have questions.”

  I felt my hand tighten on the cup, my jaw clenching. “Not on our watch.”

  “Out watch will be over when they move on this thing, dude. And you know that. When this case is wrapped up, it’s not like we’re still going to be watching Samantha.”

  I hissed out a swear, growling lowly. “When this thing is over, we’re still watching her, because I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to that girl.”

  “Amen to that, brother,” Dustin said quietly.

  We sat in silence another minute as I drank my coffee, the addiction slowly receding back into its cave. Slowly, I turned and grinned at my friend.

  “I can’t believe you frisked her, you fucking dick.”

  He grinned back, arching his brows. “I can’t believe you didn’t help. All that smooth, creamy skin, those long perfect legs, and oh man, that ass was just—”

  “Alright! Alright!” I laughed as I flipped off my best friend. I jammed the keys into the ignition and cranked on the engine. “Rub it in, douchebag.”

  “Oh, I’ll rub it into Samantha Caraway any day of the week, buddy.”

  “Prick.”

  We laughed as I pulled the car out of the parking lot.

  “Alright, what’s the job tonight?”

  Dustin frowned. “We’ve got stake-out duty with the niece tonight.”

  “Goddammit.”

  We’d pulled this job before — watching Miguel’s niece’s lavish mansion when we weren’t lucky enough to be on our usual Samantha duty. The worst part — aside from not being able to watch our Sam — was that Maria Santiago had a thing for leaving her damn blinds open. This wouldn’t have been that much of a problem, I mean, she wasn’t a bad looking girl, for sure.

  The problem was, she’d leave ‘em open when douchebag Tim Plimpton came over to get his tiny cock sucked. And we’d have to sit there watching that shit.

  Believe me, police work is not all glitz and glamour.

  “I know, it’s bullshit. Like we need to watch that pudgy fuck get his limp dick wet again.”

  I rolled my eyes as I drained the last of my coffee. “It still makes zero sense that a dude like that somehow has a girl like Samantha.”

  Dustin growled angrily. “Zero fucking sense.”

  I shrugged. “People do dumb shit sometimes. Hell, you were with that Christy chick for way too long.”

  “You’re just pissed she wasn’t into dating both of us, like Jen was.”

  “Dude, Christy is and was insane. If she comes knocking again, believe me, she’s all yours.”

  Dustin laughed. “Asshole.”

  “Dick.”

  “Speaking of which, it is Tuesday. We need to get going to Maria’s place so we can watch ‘shitty, small-dicked blowjob night’ at the Santiago house.”

  “Hope you brought popcorn,” I muttered as I took us onto the freeway and headed for the beach.

  6

  Samantha

  I drove slowly through the neighborhood the directions had led to, looking for the house number.

  It was starting to get dark outside, the sun dipping down over the Pacific out there on the horizon, and I was starting to really realize what a shit idea this was. I wasn’t even sure what that hell I was going to do when I did find it. What was I thinking? That I’d just march up, knock on the door and say hello?

  I suppose I just wanted to see, to know for sure that I wasn’t crazy.

  But the other thing was, part of me was actually glad this had come to light. There was a sense of relief, of being let go from my time with Tim. It’s not like I’d been actively looking to leave or anything, but it was finding that text message that had made me realize just how complacent I’d been in going along with this whole thing. I’d found the boring lawyer type. I’d given up my
career like a good little fiancé, and I’d left everything I had back east to follow him out here, ready to just be a boring old housewife while hubby went to work all day.

  What I knew now changed all that, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was breathing clean air.

  I felt free of something I hadn’t even realized was keeping me chained up.

  I was about to just give up, about to decide enough was enough and that a bottle of wine and my own wandering fingers would be a fine way to sulk through the rest of the evening before I figured out what to do next, when I saw it:

  My car.

  My slightly beat up old Jeep that’d I’d insisted on bringing out to California with us was parked outside a huge house down at the very end of the cul-de-sac. My eyes narrowed, and I felt my jaw tighten as I slowly drove forward towards whatever awaited me there.

  The house was honestly gigantic. I mean, we lived well with the house Tim’s new and short-lived job had provided, but this thing was enormous, not to mention perched right on the beach. Of course, it was making more and more sense now that I saw the house — young girl, rich with what was probably Daddy’s money. Pretty much a dream lay for Tim.

  I parked back on the street at the bottom of small rise that led up to the huge house. It was off on its own, sitting pretty far away from any of its neighbors. My eyes went wide as I really took in just how freaking big the place was

  I turned off the engine and sat there in the semi darkness, staring at the house. What the hell was I even doing here? I mean, right then is when I should have turned around and gone home, except right then is when I heard it.

  A high, lilting moan, drifting in the stillness of the evening.

  I froze, squinting up at the house. Upstairs on the second floor, a big floor-to-ceiling window lit up to reveal the ultra-modern interior bedroom, and I heard that giggling female moan again. And then, I saw them.

  The very same little slut from the text message pictures came giggling into the room, being chased by none other than my fiancé. Well, very decidedly ex-fiancé at this point, I can promise you that.