Liv’s breathing fast now, her pupils growing wide and color rising to her cheeks. I have a brief moment to congratulate myself on distracting her from her sadness, and then the door opens and the rookies shuffle into the room with all the nervous, hesitant energy rookies have.
I step back from Liv right as the lead instructor tells the recruits to circulate through the room to practice the field sobriety tests on the various volunteers. I try to look casual and cop-like and not like I was just telling a hot girl that I wanted to finger her.
“Ready?” I ask Liv.
She glances down at my hand—no, my fingers—and blushes even deeper.
“For the sobriety tests,” I clarify, with a grin.
And then I beckon a few of the recruits over. “Here’s a good one,” I announce, as they shyly come forward. I look at the awkward cluster of them, too tight ponytails on the women, acne still on the faces of some of the men. They’re all holding tiny notebooks and pens and they’re practically shaking at the prospect of having to do actual policework on actual people. God, it’s like they get younger and younger every year.
“Now, this lady is pretty drunk,” I begin.
“I am not!” Livia protests from behind me.
I ignore her. “And she’s getting belligerent. You’ll get those from time to time. The secret to handling a drunk is: ask, tell, make. Let me demonstrate.” I turn to Liv, who currently has her arms folded tightly over her chest and her body leaned against the wall. “Ma’am, I’m going to run you through our field sobriety tests. Will you step away from the wall, please?”
Livia glances warily from me to the recruits, and I can tell she’s weighing her options. After all, she came here to act as the drunk guinea pig for the rookies...but she didn’t come here to get teased by me. “You come over to me,” she says finally. “I’m not moving.”
“Ah, see?” I tell the recruits. “Now we will make a demand. Ma’am, step away from the wall.”
This fires Livia right back up. “I don’t have to do anything you say,” she pronounces with great poise. “Because of the Fourth Amendment.”
“Many drunks are also amateur constitutional scholars,” I say as I take a step towards Liv. “Unfortunately for our drunk tonight, I can verify certain physical cues—
like the smell of spilled vodka—that give me legal cause to detain her while I investigate criminal activity. And also we can’t do the sobriety tests while she’s against a wall.”
Liv sidles to the side as I approach. “So I suppose you’re going to try to make me now?” she says, trying for haughty decorum and failing.
“Yep,” I say. And then in a lower voice, I say, “It’s all pretend, kitten. I wouldn’t do what I’m about to do next in real life.”
She seems relieved for about half a second, then her eyes widen. “Wait, what—”
But I already have her hoisted over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry, her pert jean-clad ass up in the air and her scrumptious thighs clasped tight under my arm.
She starts hammering my back with her small fists. “Put me down!”
The rookies are giggling quietly as I drop her onto a nearby table and step back. She sways, closing her eyes, like she’s dizzy.
“Now, in real life, you probably wouldn’t physically carry a drunk somewhere, and you might also want to give them more chances to comply. But it’s my experience that drunks are a lot like toddlers—life’s going to be easier for everyone involved if you don’t expect them to think and behave like rational adults.”
I face Livia again and ask, “How much have you had to drink today, ma’am?”
She still looks a little off-balance from her trip. “Um. Three or four in the last two hours?”
I pull out my penlight and shine it in her eyes. She blinks, and then sticks out her tongue at me.
“See?” I say, shaking my head. “Belligerent.”
One by one, I have the recruits come up to see Livia’s pupils and how slow they are to react to light changes. I demonstrate how to test for nystagmus—tiny, uncontrollable eye trembles—and we make Livia do the walk and turn test. We also make her stand on one leg and recite the alphabet backwards. By the end of the hour, all of the rookies have had a chance to run tests on all of the volunteers, and Livia looks ready for another drink.
“Excuse me,” she mumbles and pushes out of the room. I check to make sure Gutierrez is still occupied, and then I follow Livia out, turning the corner where I see her going to the water fountain.
It’s my turn to lean against the wall. With both hands on my belt, I watch as Livia bends at the waist to get a drink of water. God, that ass. I need to have it in my hands.
She straightens up and catches sight of me. “Officer.”
“Drunk lady.”
She gives me an appraising look up and down—it’s equal parts hunger and something else. Respect, maybe. “You know a lot of things about your job,” she concedes as I un-lean myself and walk towards her.
“I’m glad you think so, kitten.”
She sighs. “And about next month…”
A tiny bell of panic begins tolling in my mind. Is she about to tell me that she doesn’t want to continue our arrangement? I can’t have her bail on me—I just can’t—and I decide right here and now exactly how I’m going to convince her otherwise.
I step in close to her and she takes a step back. “Before you get started about next month,” I murmur, taking another step and pushing her against the bathroom door. “I believe I was going to help you with something.”
“You were?”
I reach around her and twist the knob of the bathroom door, pushing her inside and turning her body all in one smooth motion, so that by the time the automatic lights kick on, I’ve got her front pressed against the cinderblock wall and my hands on her wrists, moving them high above her head.
“Chase…” she breathes.
Yes. Yes, this is what I wanted. To have her melt for me, to have her addicted to me.
“Do you want to play pretend again?” I ask in her ear. Without waiting for a response, I kick her legs apart, which sends her ass back into my groin. She gasps at the contact, then moans as my hand slides down from her wrist to her waist and reaches under her shirt.
“What are we pretending?” she manages.
“How about you’re a tipsy librarian and I’m the bad police officer who’s going to detain you with two fingers.”
“What do you mean with two fing—oh, holy shit.” Her head drops back against my shoulder as I unzip her jeans and stroke the rise of her pubic bone through her silk panties. “Chase, you shouldn’t…” She doesn’t sound like I shouldn’t though. She sounds very much like I should.
“You can invoke your Fourth Amendment rights any time, princess,” I whisper, finding the plump button of her clit and then skating my middle finger over it.
She shivers and shakes her head. “I won’t,” she promises.
“Good girl,” I murmur, pressing down and beginning to circle her clit in earnest. My other hand reaches for her other wrist so that I have both her wrists gathered in my hand, and I keep her that way for me—stretched and spread while I do my work. Pinned and at my mercy. She lets out a long moan as I slow down my rhythm to get the right amount of pressure for her. “That’s it. Let me make you feel good.”
My cock aches and throbs with her like this, and I’m on fire with the need to fuck her, but this is more important. Making her come. Making her want this.
I drop my hand to get under her shirt and palm her tits, squeezing and fondling and kneading as I continue to rub her through her panties. Impatient with the silk, I slide under the panties altogether and resume my work, this time with my fingertips directly against her swollen flesh.
“You shouldn’t,” she moans again.
“I told you I don’t mind this stuff,” I say, nipping at her earlobe. And I really don’t, but I don’t go lower than her clit because I don’t want to push her boundaries, at least not now. Not
when I need to convince her to give me and my super sperm another chance. So I just focus on making her come, on making her feel the full height and strength of my body as I press against her.
“As soon as you’re ready,” I promise, “I’m going to fuck you until you’re pregnant. I’m going to rut inside you until you’re growing my baby. Got it?”
“Got it,” she whimpers, squirming under my touch. She’s close, so close, and so am I, even trapped in my uniform pants. I rub a little faster, a little meaner, almost like I am the bad cop who’s taking advantage of her, like this is all for me and not for her. It seems to turn her on, my fake-meaness, and she is panting and writhing and her hands are scrabbling at the wall.
Then I feel the first shudder of her orgasm as she trembles against me. She gasps my name as she falls over the edge, a sharp exhale like she’s been struck. “Chase.”
It almost does me in, hearing that, seeing her writhe and squirm with my hand down her panties and her arms up on the wall. God, she’s so fucking hot like this. Quivering and wild. I press her completely against the wall as she continues to pant out her orgasm, kissing the back of her neck. And then when she’s finally still and quiet, her eyes closed and her breathing more even, I step back.
“This month,” I growl. “I’m knocking you up.”
She turns and faces me, her expression a little dazed. She nods. “Yes, this month. We’re going to try harder.” And then her gaze drops to my pants, where I’m sure she can see the hard length of my cock pushing unhappily at the fabric. She steps forward with a small smile, and then her hand is on me, squeezing and palming me through my pants.
I groan.
“But if we’re going to try this again, we have to do it right,” Livia says seriously, as if we’re at a library meeting and not like she’s stroking me through my pants. “I want to make sure I’m giving this the best possible chance.”
Her grip is fucking perfect, a little hard and palming the full length of me, and it’s making it difficult to think. “Sure, baby. Me too.”
“Which is why this month you’re going to save all of your orgasms for me.”
Her other hand is now cupping my balls, and I have to lean a hand against the door or I’m going to fall over.
“I already am,” I say. “I haven’t been with anyone else since the day I met you.”
She smiles and squeezes my tip. My eyes roll into the back of my head.
“I know you haven’t, Chase. I’m not talking about that.”
I open my eyes and stare at her. “Um. Then what are you talking about?”
And then her words really sink in. All my orgasms. She can’t possibly mean…
“No more jerking off while I look at my Jessica Alba poster?”
“No jerking off looking at the poster,” she confirms. “Or in the shower. Or anywhere. You save it all for me.”
“You sure you want that, kitten? Feeding my full appetite?”
She nods, squeezing me again. God, it’s so hard to argue with her like this. She’s got me by the balls...and the dick. “I know I won’t be fertile the whole month, but I don’t want to take the chance in case I have the dates wrong or something.”
She drops her hand, wearing a smug little smile. I groan at her denial. “Shit, you’re mean.”
“I’ll be off my period in five days. Then you can fuck my brains out. But until then, you save it for me. All month long, all your orgasms. All for me.”
But as she gives me a cute little wink and I give her a semi-playful, semi-I-hate-you-so-much-right-now spank on the ass, I wonder if she even realizes the truth beyond my sperm and beyond my body.
It’s already all for her.
Thirteen
Livia
“That’s my mom,” Ryan says, nodding at the car approaching on the opposite side of the road.
It’s a quarter after eight and since I didn’t feel comfortable letting the young teen wait for her ride alone after the library closed, I’m out here with her. I squint, but in the spring twilight, I can’t make out the driver. “Are you sure that’s her?”
“I know my own car,” she says, looking both ways before skipping across the street. We’re nowhere near the crosswalk, but it’s late and the roads are quiet. No one will mind her jaywalking.
I watch as she opens the back door to the BMW and climbs inside. Satisfied that she’s gotten in okay, I start to turn when the front passenger window rolls down and Ryan’s mother leans across the empty seat to shout over to me.
I feel stupid yelling across the street, so I glance down both sides of the road then trot over and bend down at the open window. “Hey, Dr. Alley, how are you doing?” I’ve met her before, briefly, but I still feel awkward. I’m much better with teens than adults.
“Busy, busy. You know how it is.” She’s a surgeon with a doctor husband and a teenage daughter. I have a feeling that I don’t have any idea at all how busy her life is, but I nod in agreement anyway. “Thank you for asking. And it’s Diane. Please.”
“Sure. Diane,” I say, hoping it sounds natural. Then I wait, certain she called me over for more than just a greeting, but if she doesn’t fill the silence soon, I’ll have to do it myself and I’m bound to sound like an idiot when I do.
Thankfully, she goes on. “I just wanted to thank you for always being there for Ryan. I know she spends a lot of time at the library, and she’s really relied on you to guide her. She talks about you all the time. You’ve been a great support to her this year in her schoolwork and both John and I are very appreciative of it.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you, but no thank you is necessary.” I stop myself from saying it’s my job because I don’t want Ryan thinking that I only think of her as a line item on an employee task list. She’s much more than that. It is kids like her that make me enjoy the job as much as I do, but I also know that saying that could embarrass her.
“Ryan has been a great support to me too,” I say, settling on an angle of the truth I think she’ll be happy to hear. “She keeps me socially conscious and constantly pushes me to challenge my comfort zone. Thank you for sharing her with me. You’ve raised a fine teen.”
Diane glances back at her daughter. “I certainly think so. Thank you for noticing.”
Ryan’s eye roll is so obvious I can practically hear it. “Okay, Mom. Stop trying to steal my friends. It’s not cool. She’s way too young for you.”
“You might not like hearing this,” I say, directing this to Ryan, “but I’m actually closer to your mother’s age than yours.”
“But you don’t act it. And that’s what counts.”
The comment is coming from a fourteen-year-old, but it feels like a balm to a sensitive spot. I’m practically dying—I know this. I’ve seen the calendar. I feel it in my bones. But at least this kid thinks I’m still young.
Dr. Alley—Diane—shakes her head. “Hey, just remember I’m your ride. Treat me like a bae!”
“Ohmygosh, Mom!” Ryan slaps a palm over her face. “Don’t try to be cool. Please. I’m begging you. That is not a word you should ever say again. I’m so embarrassed.”
“You don’t have kids of your own, do you?” Diane asks. “Enjoy your JOMO right now.”
Actually, I’m feeling just the opposite. This is exactly what I want. This banter. This tight-knit relationship. I can’t wait to have this for myself. It reminds me what I’m trying for.
Ryan, on the other hand, looks like she wants to die. “That’s not even how you use that term! You can’t say ‘enjoy’ your joy of missing out. Enjoy your joy? It doesn’t even make any sense! Just. Can we go now?”
She’s so put out, I vow then and there to be an actual cool mom who never tries to use the “in” lingo with my kid.
But then Diane whispers loudly, “I do this just to humiliate her. It’s the best thing ever. Remember it if you have kids of your own. You’ll need any source of humor you can get.” And then I make a mental note to keep it as an option.
&n
bsp; Chuckling, I step back from the window. “Looks like you two should probably be going. I’ll see you soon, Ryan.” I wave as they drive off, then jog back across the street.
As soon as my feet hit the opposite sidewalk, red and blue lights flash and a siren blares.
“Ah, shit,” I mutter to myself.
I wait as the patrol car pulls over to the curb and the officer gets out. I’m already preparing to drop Chase’s name when the cop comes around the front of the vehicle, and I can make out his face clearly.
Relief sweeps through me when I realize who it is. “Oh, it’s you! You scared me, Chase. I thought I was really in trouble.”
“Who says you aren’t?” He looks me over and, with those aviators with the reflective lenses, he’s just the way I remember him from our first meeting. Complete with the hot cop uniform and the hot cop attitude.
Unconsciously, I take a step backward. Just because he’s so hot, it’s almost hard to be near him. “Don’t tease me,” I say, nervously. Not nervous because I think I’m actually in trouble but nervous because of how swoony he is right now. I almost wish I was in trouble. “I didn’t think that was you because you were in a car. I’ve only ever seen you on your bike. Where is your bike, anyway?”
He ignores my question and takes another step toward me. “No teasing, ma’am. Do you know why I stopped you?”
“Oh for pete’s sake.” I wring my hands together in front of me. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me ma’am?”
“Do you have any identification on you?”
I roll my eyes. Apparently he’s going to play this by the book. “I don’t. I have my car key. My purse is locked in my car. Which is in the parking lot over there.”
“And you know why I stopped you?” He tilts his head, studying me. Studying the anxious way I’m playing with my hands.
I drop them immediately. He’s a cop and somehow that triggers something automatic in me. Who doesn’t get worked up when approached by a police officer after having just broken the law, even a minor law?
But then he lifts up his glasses for just a second and gives me a wink, coupled with that painfully sexy grin. “It’s just a game, Liv. I’ll stop if you want me to.”
Hot Cop Boxed Set Page 18
