Dirty Cops Next Door

by Summer Cooper

  He finds it for her with one artful stroke of her insides that caught every sensitive nerve she had so sinfully she had to bite her hand to keep from wailing as her pleasure peaked, and she was seeing stars from the intensity of it. The haze of her orgasm hit in waves, and he was clearly an experienced captain, sailing his fingers through every cresting tide. By the time the surf of the sensation had calmed, his fingers drifted out of her like a ghost ship, and in the high following her climax, and for a few wild moments where her mind was spinning she wonders if he was ever even there, and whether or not this was all a wonderful dream. But then he was solid again, steady hands taking care to stroke her hair, her face, to pull her blankets around her to keep the chill away from her body.

  “Was I to your satisfaction?” He hummed as she managed to sit up.

  “More than I could have hoped for,” she sighed at the dizzying sensation of sitting up. “What about you, though? Don't want you walking away unfulfilled,” she lifted a hand and stroked his stubble cheek. He sighed, pressing his face further into her ministrations.

  “Unfulfilled?” She hummed happily as he traced her shoulder with his fingertips, punctuating the trail with kisses pressed into her skin. “Clara, this night was more than I could have hoped for. I am more than satisfied,” she wasn't entirely convinced, and he must have read the suspicion on her face, because he added after a few moments. “In the early hours of the dawn, when I am alone, you will be in my thoughts, and keep me company.”

  “Artful way of saying, 'I'll touch myself to thoughts of you,' wouldn't you say?” He barked a laugh at her unexpected jab.

  “As cruel a mistress you may be,” he said as his chortles subsided. “You'll no doubt be in my thoughts regardless, my Clara,” he said much more seriously. “But I fear I must take my leave; I left an assistant back at the ball, and he'll want to be able to find me before we leave.” She nodded, knowing how much grief Charles' assistant gave him if he were ever off schedule for anything. She tilted her head and hesitated in asking what she dreaded hearing the answer to.

  “...Can we have a go at this?” She thought she heard a sharp inhale, but she couldn't be sure. She tapped her fingers against her knees to try and distract herself from counting how many seconds it took him to reply. “A real try at a relationship, you and me?”

  “Do you want to?” She nodded.

  “I should think so. I fear this experience has left me ruined for loneliness.” She heard his feet hitting the carpet approaching her, stopping beside her bed. She cooed at the feel of his hand cupping the side of her face affectionately.

  “If it would please you, I would visit every night,” he sighed, smoothing his thumb over her cheekbone. “If only to lay my eyes on you. But I fear that sort of reckless abandon would lead to my assistant having a heart attack from scheduling conflicts,” they chuckled at the thought. “So instead, I will promise you this,” he drew her to him in a tender embrace. Her nose nuzzled into his neck when he bent down to properly hold her close, and she breathed in the scent of his cologne- sandalwood and elderberry, now that she was thinking more clearly. “We can stay in touch as often as our schedules allow, and I'll let you know when I'm going to be in the area. If you don't want to see me on that particular time, or you can't see me due to scheduling, just let me know; I won't force myself on you, Clara,” he paused when she wrapped her arms around his middle. “And if you decide that this should stop, you need only say so, and we part as friends; if you would have me, I would like to still stay in your life.” She felt his hand stroke her hair comfortingly. “Is this agreeable?”

  “More than,” she nodded into the crook of his neck. She felt his chest stutter in staccato breaths with his soft chuckling. He pulled out his phone, and she keyed in her phone number into his phone. After it was saved, he sent her a message so she would have his number as well.

  “And glad I am to hear it,” he stepped out of their embrace with a kiss pressed into her hair. “But now I really must go before my assistant begins to mount a hunting party. Until next time, my darling.” The fading of his footfalls seemed to rattle in a hollow place in her ribs she hadn't even realized she had. She was tempted, so very tempted to reach out and ask him to stay the night with her, to pull him by the hand back onto this bed that was entirely too large for her. So she sat on her hands, and tried to wince at the clicking of her door closing.

  12

  She wasn't sure how long she sat there, curled in the darkness, staring at the door he'd left through, but when she finally pulled herself up to clean out the tea mugs and the plates where the fruit had been, she hadn't thought her legs would be nearly as shaky as they were. She also wasn't expecting to feel so empty inside when she walked around her loft, now bereft of company. And yet, she didn't feel abandoned; he would return, in time, and she would rise to the occasion when she got his next message. As she went about straightening her loft to remove any evidence of their time together in the space, she struggled to stay focused; the constant movement of her legs was rubbing her labia together, and her quim was beginning to trek sluggishly down her thighs.

  With a huff, she shed her chemise and pulled on some cotton pajamas to sleep in. Bundling the seductive evening gown with her discarded silk robe and tucking them into their original drawer. Padding back to her bed and slipping under her covers, she was startled at how quickly exhaustion crept up on her. Try as she might, the weight on her eyelids grew too heavy for her to keep them open. Even as her jaw extended in a wide yawn and she snuggled deeper into her blankets, she noticed the bed felt just a little less empty, and smiled to herself for it.

  13

  With morning came dressing in more than her dress from the previous night (thankfully she kept spare clothes here for when she would stay the night,) gathering up her discarded clothes from the night before, and getting her car from the garage to drive home. The whole time, she felt as though she were floating, and was only certain that the events of the last night were real because when she woke, her phone had a message from him – 'I hope you slept well, and dreamt of me.' She still felt like she was floating on a cloud when she pulled her car into her house's garage, and began to walk to her front door.

  Upon reaching her front door, something out of place caught her eye: resting upon the door to her house was a white box, wrapped with a red ribbon. She frowned as she approached, not remembering expecting anything to be sent to her. Then again, perhaps her mother wanted to send a gift of some sort. As she neared, she saw a note tucked into the ribbon, folded. 'To my Goddess most Divine' was scrawled neatly on the top. Her lips thinned into a wry smile. There was sure to be gossip amongst her neighbors, if there wasn't before, even if all anyone might have seen was a gift box. She arched a brow, but brought the box in her house nonetheless.

  Setting the mystery package down and hanging her keys up on her key rack, she opted to ignore it in favor of unpinning her hair and setting the pins in her jewelry box. Next came her necklace, and it soon joined her ornate pins in the menagerie of baubles and finery. But even as she sat down to brush the tangles out of her hair once it was freed of its intricate hairstyle, she found it difficult to pull her gaze from the mysterious box. With a sigh, she set her hairbrush down. With nothing left to use as an excuse to keep ignoring it, she plucked the card from the top of it, and opened it to read what message she could see scrawled there.

  'Clara – I couldn't find golden roses to match your eyes, so please accept these blue ones that matched mine – Daryl P.S. No, I don't know your address, your brother promised he'd get these to you!' She tamped down on her excitement and pulled the ribbon free so she could lift the lid of the box. She gaped at the contents, lifting them for inspection. Tucked safely inside was a vase of beautiful bright blue and gray roses. The vase itself was an intricate gold swirled thing, clearly expensive. She eased them out of the box tenderly, her cheeks hurting from how wide her smile was.

  Going to the kitchen to fill the vase with water for t
he roses, she was struck by how very much like Daryl these flowers and this vase were. No, Daryl may not fit perfectly into her life, much in the same way that these roses and vase looked positively clashing against both each other and literally everything in her house, but even still, she could make it work. She could appreciate the way that the roses looked on her kitchen table, even though they didn't fit with her posters, or her rugs, or her walls in any way shape or form, because it was something she chose to have in her life in spite of that. She pulled her phone out to call Daryl immediately, to call him and thank him for the flowers.

  “Hello?” She heard him say after a few minutes of just hearing the dial tone.

  “You're no doubt going to be leaving soon,” she said softly, fingertips touching the petals of the roses, enjoying their soft texture.

  “I was actually about to gather my things to check out of my hotel, and go to the airport. Is everything alright?” He sounded so concerned, her heart hurt from how happy she felt.

  “Everything's fine,” she reassured him. “I just wanted to thank you for the roses. They're lovely.”

  “Ah,” he coughed, clearly embarrassed. “I wanted to send you something nice, but I didn't know what. Charles actually gave me the idea. I hope they aren't too out of place?” She could sense the double question, the implication of him being fearful of having no place in her life, of their relationship, still in its infancy, having no place in her busy schedule.

  “Not at all,” she decided on both counts, smiling so much that her cheeks were sore. “I think they're perfect.”

  The End

  Sneak Peak - Billionaire Hunt

  1

  “This sucks. This sucks so so much,” Emmaline said as she and her husband Colin helped me pack up the last of the boxes. “I mean, helping you pack isn’t what sucks. I mean it does, but what I’m trying to say---”

  “Not very eloquently--” Colin said with a smile.

  Emmaline rolled her eyes at Colin and tried again. “What I’m trying to say, if a certain someone is done interrupting, is that this whole situation sucks. I’m sorry you’re going through this, Misha. I know how hard you worked to build all of this...” Her voice trailed off and she looked around forlornly at all the boxes in front of us.

  I wanted to agree, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself as I glanced around the now empty office that had once held six full-time employees. It had been a vibrant dynamic space filled with innovation and laughter. I had thought I was building an empire, but it had quickly crumbled. Designs by Misha had officially closed.

  I shook my head. “I just can’t believe this is happening. I worked so hard and now it’s all over.” My voice sounded wistful and I didn’t know how much longer I could stand being in my former office without crying. And I wasn’t a crier, but Emmaline had summed it up perfectly--this sucked.

  “Hey, it’s going to be alright. I wish I had kept my stupid mouth shut,” Emmaline said, rubbing me on the back.

  “Me too,” I joked, taking a deep breath.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nodded and took another deep, shaky breath. “Just sad, that’s all. This place meant a lot to me.”

  “I know,” Emmaline said, looking just as wistful as I had moments ago, “but you’ll make a comeback.”

  She was a lot more positive than I was. I wasn’t accepting defeat in the long run, but in the short run, I had definitely failed and a comeback didn’t look like it would happen anytime soon. I wasn’t going to say that to Emmaline though. When we had been in college together, our other friend Lacey and I had been the ones pushing her to finish her degree. We had been Emmaline’s personal cheerleaders when her life took an unexpected turn and she’d experienced an unplanned pregnancy. Being a college student and a single mom had been hard on Emmaline, but we had pushed her to keep striving anyway. And now, over 10 years later, she was returning the favor. I was used to being the strong one in my social circle. I wasn’t going to let something as inconsequential as my entire career ending break me. At least, that’s what I was telling myself.

  “You and Colin can head out. There’s nothing left. I think I can handle it from here.”

  “You sure?” she asked, hesitating.

  I gave her a small smile. “Yes, I’m sure. And I know you have to go pick up Dora soon, so I understand if you need to head out.” Theodora, or Dora as we called her, was Emmaline’s preteen daughter.

  Emmaline hesitantly gave me a hug. “Well, call us if you need anything and I mean anything. You know I’m a professional counselor...almost licensed...in case, you want to talk.”

  I gave her a half smile. “Thanks...but probably no, thanks.”

  She nodded. “Well, if you find yourself sitting in your closet crying…call me.”

  I watched them get in the car and leave, and I took one last look at the office that had been like a second home to me. I remembered how excited I had been to open this place. My husband was rarely home so I had thrown myself into my career, hoping that one day it would grow into something that rivaled his. He was an engineer and owned his own firm. The idea of being an entrepreneur intrigued me and design had always been a hobby of mine. We were well-off, but I had wanted to maintain an income and hadn’t wanted to be completely reliant on Wyatt, my husband.

  For five years, it had been like a dream. I had been so happy and then the local economy started to slowly unravel. My clients just dried up and I was left with nothing. I had even stopped taking a paycheck to be able to pay out something to my employees, but I knew that wasn’t a sustainable solution. Finally, I let go of the dream. I’d never forget the day I called them into the conference room and told them that our company was coming to an end.

  No one was surprised, but there were tears and some of those tears had been mine.

  I added the last of the boxes to the trunk of my car and then locked the door of my former office for the final time.

  “I’ll miss you,” I whispered to the building, looking fondly at the old warehouse turned lofts. With a sigh, I turned away and walked to my car.

  I slid behind the wheel and my phone rang immediately. I answered it, using the Bluetooth in the car.

  “Hey, girl, I’m fine,” I said, expecting it to be Emmaline or my other best friend Lacey checking on me.

  “Misha?”

  I laughed. It was my husband. “Hi, I didn’t look before answering. I just assumed you were one of the girls.”

  “Not a problem,” he said sounding distracted. “Did you finish packing everything up?”

  “Yep, just have to return the key,” I chirped, trying to keep the mood light even though I didn’t have a reason to.

  “Sounds good. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to take care of that tomorrow. Why don’t you head on home?”

  His words annoyed me. He always thought I had an infinite amount of time. But I was determined not to pick a fight over just a few questionable words.

  “Are you close to home?

  “About ten minutes away,” I responded. “Why?”

  “No reason. I’ll see you soon.”

  He hung up then and I frowned, thinking of how his tone had been furtive, almost nervous. I hadn’t heard his voice like that since he had planned a surprise birthday party for me last year.

  I groaned to myself. I hoped Emmaline and Lacey hadn’t convinced him to throw me a “Feel better” party or whatever they thought to call it.

  Exactly ten minutes later, I pulled up into the driveway of our modern, sleek home. I loved this home, but not the price tag. I had thought it a waste of money, but Wyatt had said it was the perfect place for a CEO and his family to live. I much preferred the craftsman styled bungalows that could be found in most of the neighborhoods, but they hadn’t been grand enough for Wyatt.

  We were opposite in many ways. I was artistic and creative. He was a procedural guy, who saw most things in black and white; yet we’d been married for eight years, having only dated for three mon
ths before falling for each other.

  As I got out of the car, I prepared myself for another crazy surprise party. I put the key in the lock, turned it and peeked in. I didn’t see anyone, but the lights were low.

  I stepped fully in and called out, “Wyatt? I’m home...”

  “I’m in the living room,” he called back.

  Smiling, I made my way there to see him.

  To my surprise, no one was hanging around the corner ready to yell “Surprise!”

  “Hey, what are you doing in here? I thought you would be in your workshop.”

  He had a workshop in the back of the house where he tested new products and ideas. He could stay there for hours, only coming out to eat. Now he did most of his testing at work, but still tinkered in his workshop during late afternoons.

  “Hi, why don’t you sit down?” he said as he sat on the couch, drinking something that I was sure was an alcoholic beverage. Wyatt drinking during the daytime? Something was wrong.

  “You okay?” I asked. I suddenly had no desire to sit down. Whatever the news was, I would just have to take it standing up.

  He shook his head, not making eye contact with me even though I was directly in front of him.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked again.

  Finally, he looked at me and his eyes were wary, but I saw resolve there. “I can’t be with you anymore.”

  I felt as if I had been kicked in the gut, but maybe Wyatt was just being funny...but Wyatt didn’t have a sense of humor.