Officer Next Door (Lock and Key)

by Ranae Rose

  He knew she was there when the wet friction of his tongue against her clit was followed by the roll of her hips, a motion that started out hard, involuntary, and softened into a slow grind, the kind that was a way of asking for more.

  He gave it to her, mouth open against her soft flesh, breathing in her scent as he drowned in her taste, so hard it hurt to be pressed against his jeans zipper like that. He didn’t dare take a hand off her to readjust, couldn’t stand the idea of taking his hands off her. He’d rather hurt.

  Her breath came harder and he missed the feel of it sweeping through his hair. Her fingers were there though, neat, rounded nails feeling sharper than they looked. Her hips bucked harder against his face and she cried out, a sound that sent his pulse racing.

  When he stopped, hands gripping her hips and lips still brushing her pussy, he realized that her feet weren’t touching the ground. Her bare toes dangled a couple inches above the floorboards, which gave him one hell of an idea. He let her down, but only for a second.

  Only so he could get naked, then tear her clothes from her body too, trying to be careful with the delicate fabric but too crazed by the taste of her to be sure whether or not he’d succeeded.

  He left her panting and naked against the wall, breasts rising and falling with each breath – he relished the sound as he turned to the nightstand and pulled out a condom.

  With a tear and a roll that turned into something like a thrust, fingers slipping down the sides of his rock-hard dick, he had it on, and there was nothing that could’ve come between him and her and the precise way he ached to fuck her against that wall.

  She weighed nothing – not when she was in his arms, anyway. As he held her with her back to the wall, the head of his dick just inches from the apex of her open thighs, he felt like he could’ve moved a mountain if that was what it would’ve taken to get to her.

  Her knees were at his hips, the muscles in her slim thighs taut with the effort of gripping him around the waist, her ankles behind his back.

  “Relax a little,” he said, taking his dick in hand and guiding it toward the folds he’d just used his tongue to trace every inch of. “I’ve got you.”

  As much as he loved the feeling of her clinging to him like that, he needed her to be a little soft, relaxed enough to let him get skin-to-skin with her, bodies fitted so tightly together they might as well have been a lock and key.

  Made to go together perfectly – painlessly.

  She listened, thighs softening a little and shoulders bowing against the wall. With the tip of his cock angled against her pussy, he placed both of his hands on her hips and held her firmly for half a second before rocking into her.

  He slid in so easily, so perfectly. One second he was outside her, balls practically bursting with anticipation, and then he was being swallowed up by heat and pressure, down to the last inch. Buried to the root, he paused at the end of the first stroke, frozen by the sheer crushing pleasure of it.

  She didn’t weigh much compared to a guy like him, but what she did weigh added to the pleasure, the pressure of her perfect body bearing down on his dick, caught between him and the wall. No bed, no support other than what he and the house gave her – his hardness buried in her core, and the hardness of the wall against her shoulders.

  She arched into him, driving his dick even deeper, so that there was a gap between most of her back and the wall.

  He slipped one hand into it, letting his fingers sprawl against her spine, knuckles against her vertebrae and fingers touching the faint ridges of her ribs, exposed to his touch by her bowed position. That way, he could almost embrace her, could feel as well as hear her breathe as he thrust into her.

  Though she was smaller than him, she was surprisingly strong, inside and out – especially inside. The way her pussy clenched tight around his shaft threatened to bring him to his knees, the force of it sending white-hot urgency arrowing through him, pushing him to the edge.

  He resolved to hold out a little longer. Hell, he’d practically been living on the edge ever since the first time he’d laid eyes on her, the first time he’d watched her accidental striptease, alone and aching in his bedroom. Feeling like he was ready to explode was nothing new.

  She said his name, deafening him to any other sound as those syllables were replayed, ‘Liam’ spoken in a rush that echoed a dozen times over inside his head. He loved the sound, almost as much as he loved the feel of her tightening around him, drawing him deeper in as she bore down on him with her hips.

  He loved the idea of making her come again, too. There was just something about having that effect on the perfect woman he’d lusted after for weeks, admiring from across the property line, fantasizing about being able to touch – not just to take pleasure from, but to give pleasure to.

  Knowing he could – feeling her tremble against him, hearing her breathe his name – was like living every fantasy he’d entertained and then some. Knowing she wanted him, knowing he was the reason she was writhing, the reason she couldn’t catch her breath… He couldn’t imagine anything better.

  And he’d definitely never felt anything better. She was heaven on his dick, perfection pressed against his hips, wrapped around his waist.

  “You all right?” he asked when her breath hitched.

  Her eyes were firmly shut, and although he could feel her pleasure, he knew that didn’t exclude the possibility of pain. The wall was hard, after all, and so was the way he was fucking her.

  “Yes.” Her eyes flickered open, met his and seared him from the inside out before falling shut again. “I’m close. Don’t stop.”

  He groaned and thrust again – deeper, slowing down but not stopping, making sure she felt every inch of his cock sliding into her, then pulling back to do it all over again. When she shuddered, he knew he’d done right to check his pace.

  Which was a good thing, because those two little words – ‘I’m close’ – had pushed him closer than ever, too.

  She reached for him, dug her nails into his shoulders. Though they weren’t overly-long, they bit, and he liked the feeling. Breathing hard as much from pleasure as exertion, he drew his hips back and sank slowly into her, savoring the way her pussy seemed to clench tighter with every half second, with every inch that he gave her, ‘till he was balls-deep inside her again.

  Another stroke like that and she was gasping.

  Another, and she wasn’t just squeezing his shoulders anymore, she was clawing.

  One more and she started fucking him back, hips rocking hard against his, proving again that she was stronger than she looked. He kept thrusting, a little faster now, and watched her work herself up, breasts bouncing, nipples still hard. Mouth open and eyes shut, her skin flushed. He’d never seen anything hotter, and it was finally all he could take.

  He came hard, his climax hitting him like a ton of bricks as hers faded. There was no going slow as pleasure flooded his gut, hot and electric. There was only thrusting deep into her, fast because he’d never felt such urgency, never been ridden so hard by pleasure, never been hit with something he’d wanted so badly and had it blow his expectations so hard and high out of the water.

  When he stopped, she wasn’t the only one trembling. He felt tremors in his thighs too, reminding him that he was only human even if fucking her made him feel anything but.

  The tremors reminded him of how much running he’d done – running and chasing and fucking, protecting. The past few days had been a blur of physical activity, adrenaline and lust. He hadn’t slept enough, had been running on hard-wired training and his body’s chemistry, called into action at work, then in a different way at home, thanks to Alicia.

  Tired or not, he didn’t regret a second of what they’d just done. On the contrary; he’d probably think about fucking her against that wall when he laid down on his deathbed someday. He couldn’t think of a better memory to guide someone into the white light.

  For now though, he stretched out on his ordinary bed, not even bothering to t
urn down the blue comforter, just pulling off the condom, tossing it into the wastebasket and forgetting about any further maintenance.

  He brought Alicia with him, holding her tight against his body even after he’d withdrawn. His limbs tangled with hers and he was warm, skin still buzzing with pleasure, faintly slick with sweat. He fell asleep that way, still holding her in his arms and tasting her pussy on his tongue.

  His dreams weren’t sweet, but they were intensely satisfying, hot as the summer night outside.

  * * * * *

  “This is harder than I thought it would be,” Alicia said, twisting her hair into a loose knot and securing it haphazardly with an elastic and a pin.

  The result was something she hoped looked stylish, in a messy way, but certainly didn’t expect to last past lunchtime. She’d worry about her hair for real later – right now, the reflection that drew her eye was Liam’s. She couldn’t focus on her own appearance when he stood beside her at the sink, clad in his uniform.

  “What, sharing a bathroom?” he asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror as he laid down his toothbrush.

  “No.” True, quarters were close inside his one and only bathroom as they both got ready for work.

  Not that she was complaining – sharing the shower, especially, had been more than enjoyable.

  “What then?” He seized a bottle of mouthwash, rinsed and spit into the sink.

  “Watching you walk around in your uniform and knowing you have to leave for work in twenty minutes.”

  He shot her a sidelong glance, looking surprised. “You like my uniform that much?”

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  “Yes.”

  How could he stand in front of a mirror and not see how good he looked in it? Yeah, they’d had sex in the shower just half an hour ago, but the fresh pair of panties she’d donned afterward were in danger of becoming damp now. He looked that hot. “This is the first time I’ve really been around you in uniform, since, you know…”

  He reached out, just barely touching the small of her back, fingertips brushing her spine as he met her gaze in the mirror. “I know.”

  The hint of a smile on his lips didn’t quite temper the intensity in his gaze. “I just didn’t know you had such a thing for it.”

  “What woman doesn’t?”

  His smile stretched a little wider. “I’m sure there are more than a few. It’s a safe bet that if a guy has to wear a uniform to work, he’s not exactly loaded. Probably lives in some backwoods place with one bedroom and one bath where any prospective girlfriends will have to stand beside him every morning and watch him spit his toothpaste into the sink.”

  She shrugged. “Who cares? The handcuffs make up for it.”

  He touched one of her wrists, fingers encircling bones that looked delicate in comparison to his. “Oh really?”

  “You bet,” she said, trying to sound upbeat, as if just the thought wasn’t enough to almost have her melting onto the little rug in front of the sink.

  “I had no idea you wanted me to cuff you.” His smile had turned into something resembling a smirk, though the light in his eyes betrayed his teasing, making her wonder if he’d thought about it too.

  “I’ll try anything once.”

  “Are you saying you’ve never been cuffed before? Not even with toys?” The light in his eyes flared a little brighter, and she felt his gaze burning into her, searing even though it was indirect, reflected in the mirror.

  “Never by an officer,” she said. “And your cuffs aren’t toys.”

  “No, they’re not.” He leaned in, lips brushing the top of her head. “I’ll make a deal with you… Stay with me again tonight and I’ll let you try on my cuffs.”

  A little shiver raced through her as he leaned against her, his body warm and solid, a telltale stiffness pressing against the small of her back. “Deal.”

  He certainly didn’t have to twist her arm. She wasn’t afraid to admit that the thought of being alone at night while the Levinsons were still at large creeped her out.

  She wasn’t afraid to admit that she would’ve agreed even if that hadn’t been the case, either. Staying overnight with Liam was like living inside one of the dreams she’d started having shortly after the first time she’d laid eyes on him.

  “Great.” She saw his smile, felt him relax a little against her despite the fact that he was still hard.

  She knew he was worried that she’d retreat back to her house and not let him protect her like he wanted to. A part of her found that hot.

  And as if Troy Levinson wasn’t creepy enough, the rest of her was still freaked out by the possibly paranormal incidents that had haunted her last few weeks. Sure, she could lock her doors and windows, even wield a weapon if she had to. But what could she possibly do to ward off any spirits that might decide to pay her a visit?

  Nothing.

  Of course, neither could Liam, but that wasn’t the point. When she lay beside him in the dark, the idea of lurking spirits seemed ridiculous. With another warm body at her side – especially one as strong and solid as his – it was easy to laugh at the fears that crept up on her when she was alone.

  Besides, she was worried about him too – he was the one hundreds of convicts bore a grudge against, after all. She liked being by his side, knowing that he was okay.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, his breath rushing against her cheek.

  Straightening, she realized that she’d been standing in front of the mirror, frozen for a full minute in the process of tucking away a stray lock of hair. Forcing away thoughts of danger and hauntings, she flashed him a smile. “Being cuffed.”

  He made a sound that was half-groan, half-sigh. It made her skin tingle, made her long for the end of the workday that hadn’t even started yet. She could almost hear the click of silver cuffs snapping shut around her wrists, and it occurred to her that she was probably one of very few people in Riley County who’d savor that sound.

  The thought heated her from the inside out. Liam wasn’t just the officer next door anymore; he was the officer in her bed.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Hey Alexander,” Petreski said. “You and Morgan got a minute?”

  “Not really,” Liam replied, catching Grey’s eye. “Why?”

  The search for the Levinson brothers was still ongoing – as long as that was the case, they were perpetually short on spare time.

  “Inmate up in G Block might be hoarding contraband in his cell. He’s done it before and another inmate tipped us off. Need some help getting him out of his cell so it can be searched. Come on, before you two head out – shouldn’t take too long. If he finds out we know and might search his cell, he’ll probably flush everything down the toilet.”

  Liam looked to Grey, who nodded.

  “All right.”

  Minutes later, Liam detached his cuffs from his duty belt. Grey and Petreski flanked him, standing ready just outside the cell door. “Stand with your back to the door and put your hands through the food slot.”

  No reply came from the cell he stood in front of, solid metal with a narrow inset window. Not bars like in movies, just a solid wall between him and the convict behind it. This was solitary – one inmate to each small cell, on lockdown 23 hours a day.

  “Place your hands through the food slot,” he repeated, “or we’re coming in to get you.”

  The man inside sat on his bed, staring straight ahead at the opposite wall. Bland white cinder block, nothing worth looking at. “Fuck off,” he called, not bothering to look at Liam through the window.

  There was no way the cell being stormed would end well for the convict inside, but that didn’t stop him from making the stupid choice and ignoring Liam’s order.

  Grey stood to Liam’s left, Petreski to his right. They’d bring the inmate out together, after they cuffed him by force. Then the cell would be searched, every last inch scoured for forbidden items.

  “Get up,” Liam said again, “and place your hands thr
ough the food slot. Let’s do this the easy way.”

  “Leave me the fuck alone.”

  With a dozen years on the job under his belt, Liam had long since stopped asking himself why so many of the inmates refused to do things the easy way. They just did.

  If he wanted to get philosophical about it, he’d say that some of the prisoners relished what few scraps of control they could come by – a few minutes’ delay, the guarantee of irritating the officers and sometimes even the possibility of injuring them. Their lives were ruled by the correctional staff, but if they saw a chance to throw a wrench into things, they took it, regardless of the consequence. Their little rebellions were all they had.

  As he, Grey and Petreski prepared to enter the cell, Liam mentally cataloged the possibilities that awaited inside. The prisoner could have a shank, some ridiculous but deadly weapon made out of a melted toothbrush or a stray scrap of plastic. Even metal. It happened, and he was aware of the possibilities, even though experience told him that the convict was probably just being a jackass for the sake of being a jackass.

  “Hold on!” The prisoner started screeching the moment the three officers entered the cell, indignant, yelling at them to leave him alone. As if he hadn’t been warned.

  It was too late. In a flurry of clattering boots and flapping prison uniform, they got the guy on the ground, forced him to flatten out on the cell floor beside his bed. Liam held him down with a knee in his back, reaching for one wrist, while Grey grabbed the other and Petreski kept the guy from kicking them. With one cheek against the concrete, the man was subdued and severely unhappy about it.

  “I didn’t do nothin’!” he cried. “I’m not resisting! Shit, I’m not resisting!”

  The prisoners’ hands were empty. Glad to see it, Liam wasted no time in fastening cuffs around pale, sinewy wrists sprinkled with dark hair.

  “Shoulda put your hands through the food slot,” he said as he and Grey hefted the guy to his feet.