Love Undercover_A Romance Compilation

by Amy Brent

  “He was always a looker, eh?” his dad said.

  Giggling, I nodded. Eric was fighting a smile.

  “He did want to be a police officer when he was little,” his mom said, running her hand over his affectionately.

  “Why didn’t you?” I asked, sensing what may be a clue.

  After all, it would be kind of at odds, being a police officer when you were regularly breaking the law. But then again, as far as my department knew, this whole embezzling money was a more recent thing. Perhaps Eric had started his descent into deep crime with some petty lawbreaking when he was younger?

  “The other kids at the playground used to beat me up,” Eric said simply, a ripple of pain flickering across his face. “It sounds ridiculous, but I was five and thought it was a matter the police would be passionately interested in. One time, I somehow walked all the way from the school to the police station. There, they all basically laughed at me. After all, the biggest dick in the whole school was the police officer’s beloved son, John ‘Jerk-face’ Collins. After that day, I realized I didn’t want to be affiliated with any kind of association that couldn’t protect kids from the lowest level of evil—even what they inflict it on each other.”

  Silence. Eric’s mouth was set in a hard line, as if he were back on the playground getting beaten up again. Inside me were warring feelings. The main one was pity for the little boy who had been so cruelly bullied and couldn’t do anything about it, even having his idealistic view of society and police shattered by the hard knock of reality. Less than that, though, was a glittering kernel of interest. If Eric had lost trust in society at a young age, would that have set him up to more callously defy it later on? Maybe what I had heard wasn’t a clue at all, but maybe it was.

  “Anyway,” his mom said, cutting in and lifting a brownie to Eric’s lips, “the important thing is that you found your niche in the technological world.”

  As Eric chomped down on the brownie, still solemn, his dad took another brownie for himself.

  “Exactly,” he said. “Now there’s no one who can say that you’re not a smashing success in all respects.”

  At the word “all,” his parents exchanged a look that settled gratefully on me. Clearly, I was the last piece to their puzzle—with Eric looking like a winner in every sense of the word.

  “So,” his mother said, turning her attention to me, “Eric tells me you’re a writer.”

  I stifled the urge to groan. It was one thing lying to Eric so grievously the way I had been. After all, a case was a case, and he was probably guilty. But some innocent, well-meaning parents? I’d always been cursed with this overactive sense of justice, and it sure kicked in when it came to lying to people who I didn’t think deserved it. Nevertheless, sealing my lips into a smile, I soldiered on.

  “Yep,” I said. “As a kid, I always had a big imagination. I was always making up stories, so when I finally grew up, it just seemed to make sense to try to make a career out of it.”

  That much wasn’t a lie after all. The job I was going to go for if the whole police thing hadn’t turned out was a writer. That was what I had planned before the whole incident had happened.

  “What kind of books do you write?” his dad pressed.

  Turning my plastered smile his way, I was getting exhausted.

  “Cop thrillers,” I said.

  Inwardly, I congratulated myself on my ingenuity. That answer would explain any strange knowledge I gave away about police procedures and so on that could potentially out me as an undercover cop.

  His mouth full of brownie, Eric butted in. “Kathryn’s got a police badge too.”

  His parents laughed appreciatively. Wiping a stray brownie crumb out of the corner of his mouth, Eric said, “We should probably get painting, otherwise we’ll never get to it.”

  With an efficient nod, his mother gathered the platter of brownies and rose.

  “You’re right.”

  “Hey,” Joe said as the brownie platter was whisked away from his oncoming hand.

  “Joe,” Eileen said in a scolding voice.

  Scowling deeply, Joe didn’t say anything more.

  I glanced at Eric questioningly, but he only laughed. Slapping his dad on the back, he declared, “The only thing my old man likes almost as much as he likes my mom is food.”

  In spite of himself, Eric’s dad revealed a slight smile.

  They were painting the basement walls downstairs. Apparently, the contractors Eric had hired to do the work had messed up, and his dad was stubbornly refusing to hire any further outside help.

  So, the four of us—wrapped up in various renditions of Eric’s dad’s old dress shirts—got to work. Eric and I worked on one corner, both of us wearing some oversize peach-colored dress shirts of some unknown fabric. Meanwhile, his mom and dad, wearing worn but more normal-looking plain white shirts, worked on the opposite corner. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was blaring gaily, so Eric and I were able to talk without being overheard.

  “They definitely liked you,” Eric said definitively as his brush smoothed out a particularly gloppy line of paint. “Thanks for that, seriously,” he continued, squeezing my side affectionately. “I really appreciate it.”

  “You are paying me after all,” I reminded him quietly with a smile.

  His face assumed an expression of mock outrage.

  “Don’t remind me,” he quipped, poking a finger into my armpit, sending me giggling.

  The painting went on for another hour or so until Eric declared he had some work to catch up on. As we left, his parents gave us long hugs. At the door, his mom stopped us.

  “I just wanted to say that it was really a pleasure meeting you,” she said, her eyes still scanning me as if there were something about me she couldn’t quite place. “You must be really something to have Eric falling for you.”

  “Mom,” Eric whined, exiting onto the porch. With his firm grip, he tugged me along after him.

  But his mother was steadfast.

  “But you are!” she protested with a little smile. “I can see it written all over your face.”

  “Goodbye, Mom,” Eric said pointedly, giving her one last wave.

  “Goodbye, and thank you,” I said, forcing a happy smile on my face.

  If only the poor woman knew the truth. But as I glanced at Eric’s slightly perturbed face, a part of me wondered how she could be so bad at reading her son. Or could it be she could read Eric better than he could read himself?

  As we piled into Eric’s Porsche, I shook the thought away. Really, the truth didn’t matter. It didn’t make one whit of difference what Eric felt for me, if anything. This was a job, plain and simple.

  “So,” Eric said as soon as I shut the car door behind me, “I lied.”

  Chapter 12

  Eric

  I let my revelation hang in the air. Kathryn looked worried, although she didn’t question me. Once I’d driven about five minutes away to the abandoned old baseball field where I knew we wouldn’t be disturbed, I explained further.

  “I really just got out of there because I couldn’t spend another second not kissing you,” I said, plastering my lips over hers. She pulled away.

  “Eric,” Kathryn said, the strain of the recent move showing on her face, “I can’t. I’ve got work.”

  “On a Sunday afternoon?” I asked incredulously.

  She managed to nod.

  “Unfortunately, yes. I forgot about it earlier, but I have this deadline due tonight, and I’ve barely gotten anything done so far.”

  I watched her lips as she spoke, imagining them moving in the same motion but somewhere else. Somewhere better.

  “Couldn’t we just, you know”—I moved her hand to my groin—“for a few minutes?”

  It was delicious seeing the conflict on Kathryn’s face. Finally, with a sullen nod, she dipped her head down. Unveiling my dick, she got to swift and efficient work. Never had I had a faster and yet more enjoyable blow job. After she was finis
hed, she wiped off her face with the silky cloth I had in my glove compartment.

  Wiping me down, she grinned.

  “I can never tell whether I’ll be cleaning up with a Kleenex or one of your fancy cloth towels.”

  “I’ll have you know that this is only the finest silk made in China.”

  For one cute moment, indecision crinkled on Kathryn’s features. Then she poked me in exasperation.

  “Eric!”

  I leaned down to kiss her, but she pulled away.

  “We have a deal,” she reminded me.

  Seeing the decided set of her lips, I didn’t argue. Instead, I drove her back to her place, the apartment building that looked nice enough yet was still unworthy of my Kathryn.

  “Will I see you next week?” I hadn’t meant to say it but couldn’t stop the words from spilling out as soon as my car stopped.

  A strange look flickered over Kathryn’s face, guilt or something like that. But when she nodded and turned her face to give me another kiss, the only thing brimming in her eyes was contented desire.

  “You bet.”

  That night, I went through the motions of wasting time in bored autopilot. I ordered in pizza and watched the first half of a series of movies. Each time, I’d start the award-winning flick all hopeful and excited. Invariably, by the one-hour mark, I was already searching on my phone for another “Top Movie of 2018.”

  It seemed that nothing really would satisfy me. For some reason, I’d been completely set on having a whole-day fuck fest with Kathryn.

  When I did finally fall asleep, it was with discontented starts. I’d half fall asleep, wake up, glare at the clock, and then do it all over again.

  One time when I woke up, she was in my bed beside me.

  “I heard you were thinking about me,” she purred.

  The next second I was on top of her, holding her hands behind her back and throwing my face over hers. Her mouth tasted like clementine oranges and desire. My fingers trickled over her curiously. Straining to contain her curves was a fishnet bodysuit. Partway through my strokes, my fingers kept catching on the holes.

  Kathryn groaned out a half-said something. Holding her chin in my hand, I slapped the words out of her.

  “Don’t talk; just listen,” I growled.

  Obediently, her body sank further into my touch. As my fingers snagged in the sexy black netting, I mashed my words into her ear with my tongue. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream. I’m going to fuck you until you don’t know what your name is, what year it is, what words even are.”

  More heated breaths trailed out of Kathryn. I slipped my fingers between her lips and she sucked them greedily. Farther down, my other hand was getting nice folds of her ass. Gripping, peeling, and rolling around the fabric of the bodysuits really turned her on, but I wanted more.

  Lifting my fingers out, I twisted her around so she was belly-down on the bed, her back to me. Then, I got the collar out of my dressing table drawer. I’d been waiting for the right time to use it, and now that she was helplessly panting on my bed, it seemed as good a time as any.

  I snapped the studded thing around her neck, my fingers closing around the chain gleefully. This was going to be a fuck to remember.

  With one hand, I held the chain so that Kathryn’s head was forced partly up and back. With the other, I explored the groove of her ass. The flesh there was wonderfully firm and yet giving too. It felt like I could just massage one cheek and then the next forever.

  But when Kathryn started nuzzling her ass up to me, I knew what I really wanted. My finger squeezed through one of the fishnet holes so I could stroke up and down between her butt cheeks, over her pussy, and then back over her ass.

  More groans rumbled out of Kathryn. I momentarily released the chain so I dip my fingers into her pussy. Ah, yes.

  She was delectably wet. Her quivers were in time to the pulsing of my finger inside her. But right now, I wasn’t satisfied with just that. Using one hand, I parted those generous ass cheeks to look at the pink starfish of her butt.

  Oh, yes. I had an even tighter aim in mind. As I stroked her slick interior with one finger, my other deepened its strokes around what I was really going for.

  While I jackhammered her pussy with then two fingers, my other hand began burrowing into her butt. Immediately, my finger was enveloped by incredible tightness. Damn. Just imagine that on my dick.

  As I picked up the tempo of my fingers in her pussy, I slowed the movement of my finger deeper into her ass.

  Kathryn was twisting and writhing with a sort of reluctant pleasure. The idea that I might’ve been the first to try this back way with her only excited me further. When I dipped in a second finger to join the first, she absolutely squealed.

  I slipped out both sets of fingers to grab the lube out of the drawer of my bedside table. This I spread over her ass and pussy carefully. Then, I got on top of her. Momentarily, Kathryn stiffened.

  Grabbing the chain, I gave it a good yank, and a strangled cry of pleasure came from her. Then, I began. I ground my dick up and down her crack so she could feel just how raging my boner was. Up and down, up and down. Yes and yes. When I began nuzzling the tip into her tight back hole, she squirmed.

  I smacked her ass.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t want it,” I hissed.

  I burrowed my dick in a bit deeper so that the head was partway in. Already, Kathryn was thrusting herself back onto my dick, wanting it.

  It just seemed natural to shove myself in all the way.

  “Oh, Eric!” Kathryn shrilled, and then I woke up.

  Frustrated, I surveyed my uncomfortably throbbing hard-on forlornly. It figured that the hottest time I’d had with Kathryn had just been a sexy dream. Still, it had given me inspiration for the next time we spent some quality time together. That whole thing about the fishnet bodysuit and her ass was crazy hot.

  I closed my eyes, running my hand up and down my shaft. Just because it had been a dream didn’t mean I couldn’t finish imagining the dream right here, right now.

  So, I did. I saw myself fucking several more orgasms right out of Kathryn, deep in her insanely tight ass. I saw her whole body rocking with the brutal releases. And then I saw myself finally spilling my ecstasy into her.

  Afterward, I surveyed my cum-soaked Kleenex with interest. Truth be told, I’d expected to have gotten tired of Kathryn by now, submissive or not. This whole experience was turning out to be surprising.

  The more time I spent with Kathryn, the better the sex was getting, not the other way around like it usually was with most girls. Most times, one roll in the hay was enough for me to have satisfied my desire for them and let me know that I didn’t really need to repeat the experience.

  Later that day, after a prolifically productive morning and an equally unproductive meeting, Mark and I were racing paper airplanes in my office when he brought up the gala.

  “Okay, so your date was pretty foxy,” he admitted, “but wait till you hear what I did with that girl I brought to the gala with me.”

  “What was her name again?” I asked him.

  He lifted up the paper airplane he had under construction—currently a lined sheet of paper with several folds in it.

  “Can’t remember. All I know is that she was acting bitchy and cold all night. So, I ended up dropping her off at her place, fucking her, then running into her sister and fucking her sister, too. The sister was even hotter and cooler than she was! How’s that for a hat-trick night!”

  Mark directed a smug smile my way, as if he’d just invented the washing machine.

  “Man, that’s pretty cool,” I said, not wanting to dampen my friend’s enthusiasm.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Mark said. “I know you’re happy with your one girl for now, but, man, there’s something about having two girls in one night that makes you happy to be alive.”

  I nodded without saying anything, because really, I could hardly remember what it felt like. Was it only a month and a half a
go that I’d had that threesome with those crazy Swiss girls who had claimed to be friends though they actually looked more like sisters? Right now, all of it was a hazy memory of blond hair and pale limbs.

  Sex with Kathryn seemed to eclipse every other experience so entirely that it seemed like a different type of act, something in a different, enhanced sphere.

  “You look—ponderous,” Mark said, smiling again at himself, probably at using a word he hadn’t in years.

  “Ponderous indeed,” I said, smiling myself. It was a fun word to say. “Just thinking about how you’re going to lose this race,” I added, performing the final fold on my own streamlined beauty of a paper plane.

  “We’ll see,” Mark said with an unconvinced snort.

  I didn’t respond because I was still thinking about the subject my conversation with Mark had brought up. Kathryn kept doling out surprise after surprise. I mean, I had hired a mistress expressly for this reason—so that I wouldn’t have to keep sleeping with a new girl every week. But still, even now my dick was semi-hard at the mere thought of her. Was it normal, getting a mistress and wanting to fuck her all the time?

  Did it matter? I wasn’t sure if it was normal, but I was positive I didn’t care.

  Chapter 13

  Kathryn

  “Want some coffee?” a grunt squeaked at my door.

  I surveyed the mousy haired woman with ill-disguised irritation. Right now, I was less than at my best. Positioned in a self-made hurricane of scraps of paper and sticky notes, it was not my finest moment, and certainly not one I wanted any witnesses to.

  “I’m fine,” I told her briskly.

  As the door shut behind, I sighed in relief. This was supposed to be the first time I actually got a full free day at the station, and I was being interrupted every few minutes. Half the time it was just my colleagues asking where I’d been these past weeks.

  Lying to Eric’s parents had been bad enough; lying by omission to my colleagues was something else entirely.