She bet he knew just what to do with that tongue.
He stood, the mattress evening out from the lack of his weight. He faced her with a hungry look. It was like he wanted to eat her.
Well, if he did, she wasn’t going to complain. In fact, she would be quite accommodating.
She bent her knees and let them fall open, giving him a view that she hoped he’d never forget.
She sucked on her finger just enough to wet it, then stroked herself. She spread her lips, showing him just how much she wanted him. She was ready.
“Officer, I’ve been a bad girl.” She pouted.
“Have you now? What have you done?”
He unfastened his pants and slid them down, kicking them out of the way, his eyes never leaving her face.
Damn. He was hung.
Her heart beat a little faster.
“Things I can’t even tell you about…”
“Do I need to punish you?”
She nodded her head. The throbbing inside her made her toes clench.
He sat on the edge of the bed again, but leaned over to pick something off the floor.
He came back up with metal handcuffs hanging from his right hand.
A breathless “yes” escaped her.
He climbed over her to straddle her with his long legs.
“Are you going to cooperate?”
Amanda’s voice caught, and she could only nod.
“So, you regret being a bad girl?”
She nodded again, her heart pounding in her throat.
“Put your hands above your head.”
She shimmied down a bit and reached her hands back until they brushed the headboard.
“You’re not going to hurt me, are you, Officer?”
“I would never hurt you, you naughty girl. I’m here to protect and serve.”
The cuffs were cold as he tightened them around her wrists; they were threaded through one of the bars on her headboard so she couldn’t escape.
Not that she’d be a flight risk. She wasn’t planning on going anywhere.
“How—” She swallowed hard. “How are you going to serve me?”
“I can’t tell you. I need to show you.”
His finger stroked lightly down her neck. She shivered; her nipples perked to the point of pain. That didn’t go unnoticed. He was a good officer, so observant. He didn’t miss a thing. She smiled.
Large hands, lightly dusted with dark hair, moved their way down her shoulders to her breasts. She arched her back in anticipation. She wasn’t disappointed. His strong fingers plucked at her. Pulled. Twisted. Just how she wanted. Just how she liked it.
She groaned and thrashed her legs, making the cuffs clank against the headboard.
Sliding a hand down to her belly, he held her still. He shifted until he was settled in between her legs.
He stroked the soft, baby skin of her outer pussy with his fingers, then his tongue.
“You’re so soft and smooth,” he whispered, dipping a finger inside her. Then a second one. “You are so wet.”
He kissed her swollen clit and then sucked it hard, making her cry out and thrash around.
Going to his knees, he held his hard length. She wanted him inside her. Now!
“Are you ready for me?” He stroked his cock slowly. Running his thumb between her lips, he collected some of her wetness, then rubbed it over the head of his cock. “I’m ready for you. Can you see how hard I am?”
Amanda barely nodded her head. She could no longer speak.
He placed the crown of his cock right at her opening and shifted his weight over her.
* * * *
Just as he was starting to slide into her, to fill her, Amanda’s eyes popped open.
She was breathing hard, a drop of sweat rolling down her forehead. The sweat was real. Her dream was not.
Her pussy was throbbing but empty. Damn.
Something woke her up before she could finish her wet dream. She tried to slow her breathing so she could hear what it was.
Was someone at the front door? And why wouldn’t they stop that loud, insistent rapping?
She peeked at the alarm clock: 6:30.
With a groan, she threw the covers over her head. Who in their right mind was up at this hour in the morning? Sunday morning at that. Wasn’t it supposed to be a “day of rest”?
If she ignored whoever it was, they might go away and she could go back to her dream. Finish what she started.
The rapping turned into a ringing of the doorbell. Then it alternated. Rap, ring. Rap, ring.
It was enough to wake up the freaking dead. Releasing a growl, she tossed the covers back and got up. The cold air hitting her heated skin made her gasp.
She glanced over at the thermometer that clung outside her bedroom window: 62 degrees. Ugh.
She jammed a thick pair of socks onto her feet and snagged a robe, pulling it over her pajamas as she trudged down the hall. She peered into Greg’s room as she passed.
Still sleeping. How could he sleep through that racket?
Why wouldn’t whoever it was just go away?
When she reached the front door, Chaos was sitting attentively in front of it staring, his bushy tail slowly sweeping the floor, back and forth. Some guard dog; he hadn’t even barked.
Well, whoever it was, she was going to give them hell.
She brushed Chaos aside with her foot and flung the door open.
“What!” She stopped and frowned. “Oh…hello.”
“About time you got yourself out of bed.”
A gray-haired, heavyset woman in her late sixties stood in front of her. She wore a multicolored housedress—the kind with the zipper down the front—black knee-high socks, and tan orthopedic shoes. Amanda winced at the ghastly fashion faux pas.
The woman’s jowls jostled as she shoved a plate heaped with cookies at Amanda.
“Here, they’re peanut butter. Greg likes them.” She gave Chaos the evil eye. “I don’t know why Dolores ever bought him that damn noisy dog.”
As if mocking her, the quiet Chaos thumped his tail blissfully against the floor in response. Damn dog.
“I’m Amanda.”
“I know. I live next door. Dolores told me all about you.”
Great. “And you are?”
“Mrs. Myers.” The older woman eyed Amanda up and down. “Hmph. I told Dolores a girl that doesn’t even care enough to come home for her father’s funeral doesn’t have enough sense to take care of that poor boy.” She scowled. “I’m sure you’ll prove me right.”
Amanda’s grip tightened on the cookie plate as she glared at the miserable old bitch before her.
Amanda took a deep breath before saying sweetly, “Well, I appreciate you welcoming me into the neighborhood, Mrs. Myers, especially so bright and early on this fine Sunday morning. I’m sure we’ll become great friends.”
Mrs. Myers raised a finger and shook it in Amanda’s face, causing her to take a small step back. “I’ll be watching you, young lady. You better take good care of that boy. And make sure I get that plate back.”
With another “hmph” she turned and waddled back to her house.
“Nice meeting you,” Amanda called out and slammed the front door shut.
She gave the dog a look. “I give you permission to bite her if she ever steps on this property again.”
She considered the cookies in her hand. She peeled the plastic wrap back and dropped the plate to the floor. “There you go, Chaos. Enjoy.”
She smiled as the dog gobbled up a couple of the cookies, his tail wagging enthusiastically. Then as he was licking a couple more, she stopped him. The last thing she needed was the dog getting sick. She certainly didn’t want to clean up dog puke. Maybe she’d give them to Chaos one at a time. Like homemade dog treats.
She plucked the plate from underneath him and smoothed the wrap back over the surviving cookies. She’d have to hide them so Greg wouldn’t eat the peanut butter cookies with the dog saliva icing.
* * * *
She heard the woop, woop of the siren behind her. Amanda slammed her hand on the steering wheel; she had almost made it home.
All she had wanted to do was to go to the Super Walmart at the edge of town, pick up a few groceries and some necessities, then get home. It should have been that simple. It could have been that simple.
Three more blocks and she would have made it. She had even waited until dark to go.
She put on the turn signal and, with a huff, pulled over to the curb. A bright spotlight pinned her in the car from behind. She powered down the window, and tapped her nails with an impatient rhythm on the frame.
“What the hell!” Officer Bryson’s head filled up the car window, and a Maglite was pointed directly at her, blinding her. “Didn’t I tell you not to get into trouble?”
“What?” she asked with feigned innocence. She impatiently pushed the flashlight out of her face.
“You are driving around town without a registration plate on your vehicle.”
“Oh, it’s missing?” She had removed the GREGSMOM plate from the sedan the other day. She tried to change the subject. “Are you the only cop in this town?”
“Fortunately for you, no. There are also my brothers Matt and Marc, to name a couple. I seemed to be the fortunate one to keep dealing with you, though. The way you’re going, you’ll meet them all soon enough.”
“So your whole family is the police department?” At least send one of his other brothers. They can’t all be barbarians like this one. “I guess I’ll have to get another plate for the car.”
“What happened to the old one?”
The one that she had tossed into the garbage? She wondered if that was a crime. “Uh…it was stolen?”
“We’ll have to report it stolen then. And you’ll have to notify PennDOT.”
“Maybe it fell off.”
He eyed her suspiciously. The tick in his jaw was growing by the minute. “Which was it?” he prodded. “Amanda, was it stolen or lost?”
Why couldn’t he let this go? Why not just write her another stinking ticket and send her on her way. Every time she looked up at him, she was reminded of her dream. Why the hell would she pick someone so controlling to be in her wet dream? “I don’t know.”
“What?”
She raised her voice and repeated, “I don’t know!”
“Well, I’ll report it stolen then. I’m sure if someone around here took it”—he lifted a brow—“then we will surely notice a vehicle with the plate GREGSMOM on it.”
Amanda choked back a groan. “Yes, it shouldn’t be too hard to miss.”
“Well, when you get home, Amanda—Ms. Barber—make sure you take a good look around to see if it fell off. I suggest checking in the garage. If you find it, give us a call.”
Amanda’s felt the heat crawling up her neck. “I’ll do that.”
“I’ll let you go this time. But if I catch you driving without a plate again, I’m towing your car.”
How sweet.
“I’ll follow you home.”
How embarrassing, she thought as the black-and-white cruiser followed her up the street to the house.
How embarrassing Mrs. Myers, the next-door nosy neighbor just happened to be out on her porch. At nighttime. With only a bare yellow bulb lighting up her stocky figure, hands on her hips in clear disapproval.
As she pulled into the paved driveway, the cruiser continued on down the street. She stopped the vehicle and stared back at Mrs. Myers. The woman didn’t like her. It was mutual.
Great. Now she was dealing with a meddling cop and a meddling neighbor. What was next?
* * * *
She should have never asked herself that question. She appeared to be stuck in the midst of Murphy’s Law.
The next morning, she went to wake up Greg, to get him ready for adult day care. His bed was empty.
She tried not to panic. She checked the bathroom. Empty. She whistled for Chaos. No response.
She ran down the stairs and out into the backyard. Empty.
She checked the car in the garage. It sat there empty.
Now she could panic.
She grabbed a jacket and a pair of sneakers, pulling them on as she went, and rushed out the front door.
Only to be brought up short.
A police car pulled up in the driveway. She relaxed somewhat when she spotted Chaos and Greg in the backseat.
She grimaced as she heard a tsk tsk from the direction of the porch next door. She ignored the old busybody.
At least it wasn’t Officer Bryson driving the cruiser. Last thing she needed right now was another lecture from that man. Anyway, she didn’t think it was him. As the car rolled to a stop, she rushed forward to open the back passenger-side door.
Fortunately, her brother was in one piece. “Greg! Where were you? You scared me!”
She gave him a big hug and brushed a lone lock out of his eyes.
The disturbingly familiar-looking police officer unfolded himself from the driver’s seat. “Ma’am. I’m Officer Bryson. I mean, Marc Bryson.” He gave her a half smile as he said, “I’ve heard you’ve already met my brother Max.”
They were eerily similar. The same closely cropped dark hair, ice-blue eyes, strong square jaw, and deep tan, like they both spent a lot of time outdoors. This one had quite a few less creases around the eyes, though. And he didn’t look so disapproving. Or barbarian.
“What happened?”
He tilted a head toward the busybody and lowered his voice. “Mrs. Myers called and said she saw Greg running away from home.”
“What?”
Greg piped in at that moment. “I wasn’t runnin’ away! I wasn’t, ’Manda.”
“We found him down on Fifth Street.”
“Fifth Street! Holy shit.” Amanda grimaced, realizing she’d just cursed in front of a police officer on duty. She turned to Greg and took his shoulders, giving him a little shake. “What were you doing on Fifth Street?”
“Looking for Mama.”
His sullen answer tore at her heart. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond.
“Ma’am…”
“Amanda,” she corrected him. She was not ready for that old-lady title yet. Save it for Mrs. Busybody.
“Amanda…” With a hand on her back, he steered her away from Greg so they could talk privately. He kept his voice low as he continued, “His mother’s church is on Fifth.”
Amanda shook her head. She didn’t understand.
He cleared his throat. “That’s where her service was.”
Her service… Ah! What an idiot she was. The people in this town must think her heartless. No wonder Mrs. Busybody didn’t like her. Amanda had never visited. She never even came back for her father’s funeral. Or her stepmother’s.
No wonder Officer Max Bryson thought her immature and selfish. She looked up at his brother; nothing but pity showed in his blue eyes. Right now she felt so low that she’d rather have had Max’s disapproval staring down at her. Punishing her.
She deserved it.
As if in slow motion, she turned away and sank down on the concrete front stoop. She looked at her brother, who was helpless in this world. She was all he had.
Greg remained standing next to the black-and-white car with an abnormal calmness, not his excitable self. Chaos sat at his feet obediently—also unnaturally still.
She studied the dog. Chaos didn’t know his master was different. Chaos didn’t care.
She was so in over her head. But she was determined not to drown.
* * * *
Amanda glanced over at Greg, who was coloring with crayons…only he didn’t have a coloring book. He was immersed in decorating the kitchen table. Amanda closed her eyes and sighed.
She had insisted Greg stay home from day care and had spent half the morning trying to explain why his mother wasn’t still waiting for him at the Fifth Street church. He had heard everything she had to say, but hadn’t really listened.
And Amanda was tired of trying to explain. Both ended extremely agitated for most of the day. Even Chaos had gone out his doggy door to escape the tension.
Maybe she just needed to get Greg away from this place.
“Bud, how about moving to the big city?”
Without even looking up, he mumbled, “No.”
Amanda moved around the table to stand next to his seat. She stroked her fingers over his hair. “Maybe you could meet new friends.”
“No.”
“Why? Greg, don’t you want lots of friends and lots of things to do?”
“Don’t wanna leave.”
“Why?”
“Mama may come back.”
“Greg…” Amanda reached out and grabbed Greg’s hands with hers, ceasing their senseless movement. “Greg, your mama isn’t coming back.”
“Yes, she might.”
“Did Daddy?”
Greg’s hands tensed against hers, his fingers clench tight. “No…no…Daddy’s gone for good. Mama says so.”
“Yes, and your mama is with our daddy.”
“No. She’s coming back.”
“No, Greg…”
“Yes, she said she’d never leave me.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“She said so!” He jerked away and stared down at the broken crayons in his hands. “Oh, my crayons are broke. Mama’s gonna be mad!”
Amanda sank into a chair at the table. “No, she won’t.”
“’Manda, stop it! Stop it! Mama said…”
“Greg, your mama said a lot of things, but…”
Greg suddenly pushed away from the table, causing his chair to flip backward with a crash. He towered over Amanda, his face flushed, a piece of spittle caught in the corner of his mouth. “SHUT UP!”
Amanda had to cover her ears to protect them from his high-pitched shriek. His fists were clenched and his eyes wild. For the first time, Amanda felt a spark of fear. She might have pushed him too far.
Max Bryson stepped into the kitchen. A fleeting thought of how he had gotten into the house crossed her mind. He approached Greg, put his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, and gave them a slight squeeze. “Hey, pal, what’s going on?”
The tension notably lessened in Greg’s body. For that she was grateful. Why Max was in her house was another thing. She realized then that she had been holding her breath; she released it in a rush.
Brothers in Blue: Max Page 3
