Bleed Blue 69: Twenty-Five Authors…One Sexy Police Station

by Anthology

  “Except when people hang chickens on the art.” His voice was wry.

  “It doesn’t always live up to those exalted ideals. Some installations are better than others. There’s politics in art, too.” I smiled and touched his arm, liking the feel of his muscles beneath the coat. “Why did you become a detective, of all things?”

  He laughed. “Of all the police jobs, Livvie, detective is the one that I see as a lifeline, too. We come into situations where people are panicked, and they turn to us for help. We’re their lifeline when they’re in a world of a mess.”

  We fell silent for a minute, and the space between us was alive with promise. The look in his eye was more than that of a detective on the job. I knew my eyes were sending out messages, too. I liked him. Yes, we’d just met, but something about him felt perfect, like he was meant to be here at just this time, when I needed someone. Maybe he needed someone, too. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t walked away, yet. Maybe that’s why he was watching me like a hawk, with that small smile.

  “Lifelines. Mi abuela reads palms,” I mused. “She says I should look at a man’s hand to see if he’s a match. She says to look for a strong lifeline and heart line.” Too much? My heart flipped to my throat.

  He held his palms up. “What do my hands say?” His eyes found mine. My breath caught with relief and arousal.

  I took one hand. “I don’t believe in that.” But I didn’t let go of his hand. It was warm and strong, and he curled his fingers around mine. “I believe in reading faces. And behaviors.”

  “Another way we’re alike,” he said. “Cops do that. We’re people watchers.”

  “Who knew that artists and cops were secret twinsies,” I said, and gave him a punch with my other hand. He took that one, too.

  His voice was deep, curious. “How does it feel?” he asked. “Knowing you hold art in your hands, and that at your will, you can release it onto a canvas so everyone can see it?” He ran a finger over my palm.

  My heart swelled. “I guess it feels like life,” I said, meeting his gaze. “It feels good, knowing I can share something of myself like that.”

  “I bet your work is wild and fierce. Gorgeous.” He stepped in a few inches.

  My body tingled at his proximity. “How could you possibly know that, Detective Lucian Foster?” I couldn’t look away.

  “Luc.” His voice was low. “Remember?”

  “Luc.” My voice, repeating his name, was soft in the air. “You don’t know me.”

  He laid one hand on my arm, then removed it. “I don’t know. Your eyes and voice. Something about you.” He shook his head. “It sounds like a bad pickup line. But I think I’m right?”

  I flushed. “I paint from the heart. It is wild. Fierce.”

  “I’d like to see it.” His voice was warm now, gravel and honey, and my entire body sparked.

  “What would you like to see, exactly?” Dios mío.

  “Anything you want to show me,” he said, and smiled, and my heart jumped into staccato. The smile came through his eyes and shot into mine. I smelled his cologne on the temperamental bursts of wind and it made me want to rub my cheek along his.

  He had stubble on his chin, and I imagined it along my skin. It would tickle in the most delicious way, then rub in hard as he kissed me. I thought about his tongue in my belly button. The lights in my room on low, my hands grabbing that dark hair as he moved his lips to my thighs—

  “Anything I want to show you,” I mused, and images rushed through my brain, a million points of light.

  I made a decision. “All right. Come with me.”

  I led us out of the park, then turned and waved at the nearest cab, and he kept up, didn’t ask questions, didn’t tell me that his car was here. I sensed restrained energy. He was letting me lead. And later on, I thought, he’d unleash his beast and ravage me, if I let him. Arousal pooled in my body and sent electric shocks to my nipples. I never wanted somebody so badly, so soon. This was insane.

  When we got into that cab and his shoulder, his thigh, pressed into mine, it wasn’t insane—it was right. I let my body push into his, tightly against him, no accident. We rode that way to my gallery in Chelsea, where I opened the door to the art, and to my heart, and showed him who I was.

  Luc

  “Thanks for gracing us with your presence.” Lawrence’s mouth twisted into a smile, but his eyes were flat. “Almost forgot you work here.” His feet were up on his desk and when he looked at me, he narrowed his eyes.

  I felt the usual tension start in my chest, but when I glanced to his shoes and saw the hole almost wearing through near his toe, I frowned, concentration broken, and shook my head. “Any of you fuckers heard of Festivus?” Some laughter, some headshakes. “There’s the artist who’s famous for his holiday sculptures. He’s got one up by Empire Fulton Ferry and someone hated it enough to write him a nasty note with a death threat.”

  Lawrence snorted. “Sounds like the kind of thing a pompous asshole artist would write himself. And you get paid to drink coffee and chat about it. Shit.” He lowered his feet to the floor and slammed a drawer, and curious glances followed.

  I nodded to Eve, and she trailed me to the hallway. “He’s feisty today.”

  She shrugged. “His usual asshole self. Listen, I might volunteer for Times Square. You got any advice?”

  She and I were friends. So after I gave her the rundown and she started down the hallway, hand checking her belt, her holster, I called out, “Wait up.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Can I get advice, too?”

  “Okay?” She put a hand on her hip.

  I crossed my arms. “It’s, ah, about a woman.”

  A smile broke out across her face. “I didn’t know you were dating again.”

  “I’m not.” I rubbed a hand over my chin. “I met someone, yesterday.”

  “The artist?” She laughed.

  “No. The art curator. Olivia.” I smiled, saying her name.

  “She single?”

  “I assume so. She showed me her gallery.”

  “Goddamn, you move fast. No wonder Lawrence is jealous.” She laughed again.

  “No, Eve. Jesus. I mean she showed me her art.”

  “So, I mean, what do you need to ask?”

  “What’s a good place to take someone for a date? Something artistic and romantic.”

  She raised a brow. “And you think that’s something I’d know?”

  “Yeah, I do, actually.”

  She bit her lip. “So I guess maybe I do. I’d say to take her to River Café. It’s a great place. They even give you a tiny Brooklyn Bridge made of chocolate, for dessert.”

  “You take your hot dates there?” I teased.

  She gave me the finger. “Fuck off. I’m not looking to meet anyone right now.” Her voice was wistful, though, and she looked past me down the hallway.

  I frowned, about to say something more, when her radio burst with static. “Two-oh-eight, do you copy?”

  She immediately focused. “This is 208.”

  More static, then, “Could you respond to a 10-21 at 2483 West 16th Street?”

  Eve jogged toward the door. “Ten-four, on my way.” She called back over her shoulder, “Good luck, Romeo. Fill me in later! Better yet, fill her in.”

  Livvie said yes to dinner, and told me to pick her up from her studio. Her eyes told me she wanted more than dinner.

  I looked past her artwork, her easels, and my eyes caught on a bundle of soft red rope, looped over itself and tied in the middle. It could have been anything, except that it wasn’t: It was bondage rope. For Shibari. Once I saw that, I couldn’t see anything else. Fuck—was Olivia into that?

  She noticed me looking and her face flushed; she glanced away, then back at me, defiant, and a small smile spread on her lips. She knew that I knew. And she fucking liked it.

  Our eyes locked and I grabbed her arm, fingers easy but firm, and tugged her into my space. “You used that rope
yet, Livvie?” I breathed into her neck.

  She sucked in air and raised her chin. “For an art project?”

  “With you as the masterpiece.” I touched my lips to her skin once and it was electric; my dick surged and my entire body craved her.

  “Not yet.” She blinked, and her smile faded.

  “But you want to?” I touched her chin with one finger.

  The smile came back. “With the right person.”

  “So you got that for future planning?” I ran my finger down her neck.

  She lifted one shoulder and bit her lower lip, darting her eyes away. “I got it for my ex. But we never got to… that.”

  “To bondage?” I ran the finger down the side of her neck to her clavicle.

  She shivered. “To anything out of the norm.”

  “You didn’t trust him?”

  She shook her head. “In the end, no.”

  “Do you trust me?” My voice was low.

  She looked right into my eyes and said, “Yes.”

  “I’d like to tie you up,” I whispered. “I’d fucking love seeing that red rope against your pretty skin, Livvie. I’d strip you down and tie up your hands and your breasts, and I’d worship your hard little nipples with my mouth.” I bit into the soft skin at the side of her neck and she shuddered.

  “Luc,” she murmured. “Te deseo tanto.”

  I knew enough Spanish. “I want you, too,” I agreed. “I’d drive you crazy, Livvie; I’d make you insane with desire with my fingers and my lips. You’d fucking love every second of it. You’d love being mine to command.”

  Her eyes drifted shut and her chest heaved.

  “Wait here.” I checked the door: locked. Then I got that bundle of rope and stood in front of her, a few feet away, legs spread, and started deliberately unwinding the knot.

  Her eyes darted to my hands, to my eyes, and then to my crotch… and her eyes widened. I smiled and advanced, a predator, looping the rope between my hands.

  She put one hand to her lips and backed up, but she smiled under her fingers.

  “You wanna play?” I murmured, crooking one finger. “Come here.”

  She nodded. “You come here first.”

  I laughed. “Okay.” I came up to her until there was nothing between us, and the heat of our bodies blended in the air of her studio. “Close enough?” I whispered.

  “Not hardly,” she said, and she reached up and kissed me, and I tossed the rope aside and grabbed her with both hands and pulled her into me as our mouths met.

  I reached inside the top of her dress and slid my fingers over her breast. When I found her nipple, I grazed it with my nails, and she moaned into my mouth. When I squeezed, she kissed me so furiously that I knew I could come without even fucking her.

  I pushed her up against the wall, grabbed her long skirt and hiked it up until her thighs were exposed. I looked down. Holy fuck, those legs! Smooth, toned perfection. I stepped back and pulled the dress higher, until I could see her panties, then higher yet, until she raised her arms and I tugged it off her body, exposing her gorgeous breasts. She threw her head back against the wall, panting, her arms in her hair at the sides of her head. “Luc,” she murmured. Her eyes were shut, long black lashes touching her cheeks.

  She shaved, except for a little strip. Her panties barely covered it. They were white and lacey, and they were wet. I stood transfixed, unable to believe this amazing woman was in front of me, letting me touch her, look at her… love her. “Luc,” she repeated.

  I stepped back in and took her lips with mine, then reached down with one hand. “Spread for me,” I growled, and she did, with a gaspy breath. I rubbed up and down the soaked gusset. “You got wet for me, Livvie,” I told her. “Didn’t you?”

  She nodded, eyes still shut. I bit her neck hard and reached up to squeeze a nipple. “Say it.”

  Her eyes flew open. I saw the flash of desire war with her need for control, and she gave me a teasing smile. She leaned in and touched her lips to my ear. “I got so wet for you, Luc. Feel me again.”

  Now I was the one who groaned. I slid one finger inside her, pushing the fabric aside. “Like this, Livvie?”

  She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  I grabbed her below one thigh. “Lift up. Wrap this leg around me.” She did it, and I pushed into her, shoving my erection into the space between her thighs. She whimpered, and I knew she wanted my fingers back, so I obliged.

  I stroked, finding her clit, learning her curves. We stood there together, sometimes kissing, sometimes breathing, as I touched her. For a minute. Then another. She was warm, silk, perfect. I was so hard it was painful, but I enjoyed her little sounds of pleasure far too much to move on.

  Her elegant hand came around and she stroked through my pants. “Fuck,” I said into her neck and bit down. I fluttered two fingers against her clit and she cried out and stiffened.

  “Too much, or not enough?” I whispered. “Spread more, baby.” I could tell she liked what I did, because her thighs parted for me.

  “I want you,” she begged. “Luc.”

  I stroked in little circles. “Pretend this is my tongue,” I told her, letting my voice flow, smooth and sexy. “I’d lick you just like this.” While I talked, I moved my fingers in a new pattern, up and down. Her body trembled and a sheen of sweat arose on her brow. She arched back into the wall, pushing her breasts upward. “I’d lick you like this for a long time before I let you come,” I promised. “By the time I gave you permission, you’d be begging.”

  “I want to touch you,” she said, her voice strained, passionate. She rubbed me again. I was dying to feel her on my naked skin.

  “Soon,” I promised. “But you don’t get to come until I say.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she said, looking up at me, her eyes half-lidded.

  “Because if you come without permission,” I added, “you know what I’m going to do?”

  She gave a sly smile and bit her lower lip. “You’ll spank me?” she whispered into my neck, and I swear she sounded hopeful.

  Fuck me. “Only if you like that,” I murmured.

  “I don’t think I’d like it,” she answered, and my heart dropped. It hammered when she whispered, “I’d love it.”

  “Oh, is that right?” I bit her shoulder, barely able to control myself. “You know, holding back information like that from an officer of the law is a very bad thing to do.”

  “Oh, Officer, I’m so sorry,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “I hope you don’t have to punish me too hard.”

  Hard? I’d never been harder. I pulled the cuffs from my back pocket. I intended to do every single fucking thing I promised: Tie her up, lick her tits, put my mouth between her legs and drive her wild. But there was no reason to leave the cuffs out of it.

  I dangled the cuffs in front of her face. “Give me your wrists, bad girl.”

  She extended one arm in front of her, like a dancer, like a butterfly unfolding a wing, first time out of a chrysalis. Slow, tentative. Then the other.

  I shook my head. “Behind your back.”

  Her eyes widened when I explained, “Your tits will stick out more. Better for me to bite them.”

  She turned around in those heels and panties, and put her hands behind her back. I took her hands in one of mine. “If you want me to stop at any time, you just tell me stop, okay? I need you to tell me yes.” I licked the side of her neck and kissed.

  She nodded. “I understand, Luc. I want you to cuff me. I don’t want you to stop.”

  I clicked one silver band around her wrist, then the other. These were official cuffs, not toys, and I wouldn’t leave them on for more than a few minutes. I didn’t want her delicate skin marked.

  “You have the right…” I trailed one finger down her bare shoulder, “to stand still and let me touch you.” I pressed my lips to the side of her neck and felt her pulse beating, a hummingbird. She didn’t speak, but made a soft sound in her throat, and tugged at the cuffs.

  “You h
ave the right…” I continued, tracing the side of my hand down the curves of her body, “to let me worship you tonight with my mouth.” The fading light illuminated her profile with a golden glow, a line of fire. Her chest rose and fell, and her perfume rose in a wave of heat to my nose, roses and desire.

  I pressed myself against her, so she could feel my arousal. I bit the silky sweet skin under her ear and smiled at her moan. “But you won’t get it unless you beg. Now.”

  “Luc, please.” Her voice was soft, sexy. “Now.”

  “You want me right now, right here?” I demanded. “I’m going to take you against the wall, then, Livvie. That’s what you want?”

  “Right the fuck now,” she breathed, sticking her ass back into my erection. “If you can handle it.” She added, in a whisper, “Condoms are in the bathroom cabinet.”

  “Oh, baby, I can handle it,” I snapped, not with anger but with passion, and I squeezed her tits until she moaned. Then I slid down the scrap of fabric that separated her skin from my hand. I didn’t even undress fully, and when my cock burst free, I got one of those condoms as fast as I could.

  I turned her around so she faced me, her hands still cuffed behind her. “Fuck the wall,” I said, and walked her with me to the couch. “Ride me, Livvie. I’ll hold you.”

  She kicked her panties off her ankles and obeyed, straddling me with those fucking amazing thighs, one on each side of my lap, and lowered herself inch by inch until her pussy brushed my cock. “All the way,” I demanded. She leaned in to brush my lips with hers, and started rising and pumping, her muscles working, exquisite. Her tits, Jesus! Watching them bob, firm and lush, drove me mad, and I pulled her closer so I could lick, bite. She cried out, and then I grabbed her hips and set the rhythm, anchoring her to my body, safe, as we both flew away and came at the same time, my orgasm so hard and tight that I roared out her name. She screamed at the pinnacle, her eyelids fluttering shut, her entire body stiffening as she clenched her pussy around my cock, milking me, until she sank forward and collapsed into me, making small sobs and gasps of pleasure. And for a long minute we stayed there, our bodies still joined, feeling our hearts beat together, listening to each other breathe.