Pr*ck Charming

by Madison Faye

  “Can’t help it?” I swore myself, taking another sip from the styrofoam cup. “Believe me, I know the feeling.”

  “What’s going to happen to her? I mean, after the FBI moves in on this whole thing and ol’ Tim gets locked up for helping drug dealers falsify shipping reports and legal docs?”

  “Well, she’ll be done with him, so there’s that. And she’s got nothing to do with this — that you and I can attest to. So, she’s not in trouble or anything.”

  Dustin’s jaw tightened. “They’ll be after her, you know. The Mexicans. When Tim gets nabbed with the rest of them and she walks, they’ll have questions.”

  I felt my hand tighten on the cup, my jaw clenching. “Not on our watch.”

  “Out watch will be over when they move on this thing, dude. And you know that. When this case is wrapped up, it’s not like we’re still going to be watching Samantha.”

  I hissed out a swear, growling lowly. “When this thing is over, we’re still watching her, because I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to that girl.”

  “Amen to that, brother,” Dustin said quietly.

  We sat in silence another minute as I drank my coffee, the addiction slowly receding back into its cave. Slowly, I turned and grinned at my friend.

  “I can’t believe you frisked her, you fucking dick.”

  He grinned back, arching his brows. “I can’t believe you didn’t help. All that smooth, creamy skin, those long perfect legs, and oh man, that ass was just—”

  “Alright! Alright!” I laughed as I flipped off my best friend. I jammed the keys into the ignition and cranked on the engine. “Rub it in, douchebag.”

  “Oh, I’ll rub it into Samantha Caraway any day of the week, buddy.”

  “Prick.”

  We laughed as I pulled the car out of the parking lot.

  “Alright, what’s the job tonight?”

  Dustin frowned. “We’ve got stake-out duty with the niece tonight.”

  “Goddammit.”

  We’d pulled this job before — watching Miguel’s niece’s lavish mansion when we weren’t lucky enough to be on our usual Samantha duty. The worst part — aside from not being able to watch our Sam — was that Maria Santiago had a thing for leaving her damn blinds open. This wouldn’t have been that much of a problem, I mean, she wasn’t a bad looking girl, for sure.

  The problem was, she’d leave ‘em open when douchebag Tim Plimpton came over to get his tiny cock sucked. And we’d have to sit there watching that shit.

  Believe me, police work is not all glitz and glamour.

  “I know, it’s bullshit. Like we need to watch that pudgy fuck get his limp dick wet again.”

  I rolled my eyes as I drained the last of my coffee. “It still makes zero sense that a dude like that somehow has a girl like Samantha.”

  Dustin growled angrily. “Zero fucking sense.”

  I shrugged. “People do dumb shit sometimes. Hell, you were with that Christy chick for way too long.”

  “You’re just pissed she wasn’t into dating both of us, like Jen was.”

  “Dude, Christy is and was insane. If she comes knocking again, believe me, she’s all yours.”

  Dustin laughed. “Asshole.”

  “Dick.”

  “Speaking of which, it is Tuesday. We need to get going to Maria’s place so we can watch ‘shitty, small-dicked blowjob night’ at the Santiago house.”

  “Hope you brought popcorn,” I muttered as I took us onto the freeway and headed for the beach.

  Chapter 6

  Samantha

  I drove slowly through the neighborhood the directions had led to, looking for the house number.

  It was starting to get dark outside, the sun dipping down over the Pacific out there on the horizon, and I was starting to really realize what a shit idea this was. I wasn’t even sure what that hell I was going to do when I did find it. What was I thinking? That I’d just march up, knock on the door and say hello?

  I suppose I just wanted to see, to know for sure that I wasn’t crazy.

  But the other thing was, part of me was actually glad this had come to light. There was a sense of relief, of being let go from my time with Tim. It’s not like I’d been actively looking to leave or anything, but it was finding that text message that had made me realize just how complacent I’d been in going along with this whole thing. I’d found the boring lawyer type. I’d given up my career like a good little fiancé, and I’d left everything I had back east to follow him out here, ready to just be a boring old housewife while hubby went to work all day.

  What I knew now changed all that, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was breathing clean air.

  I felt free of something I hadn’t even realized was keeping me chained up.

  I was about to just give up, about to decide enough was enough and that a bottle of wine and my own wandering fingers would be a fine way to sulk through the rest of the evening before I figured out what to do next, when I saw it:

  My car.

  My slightly beat up old Jeep that’d I’d insisted on bringing out to California with us was parked outside a huge house down at the very end of the cul-de-sac. My eyes narrowed, and I felt my jaw tighten as I slowly drove forward towards whatever awaited me there.

  The house was honestly gigantic. I mean, we lived well with the house Tim’s new and short-lived job had provided, but this thing was enormous, not to mention perched right on the beach. Of course, it was making more and more sense now that I saw the house — young girl, rich with what was probably Daddy’s money. Pretty much a dream lay for Tim.

  I parked back on the street at the bottom of small rise that led up to the huge house. It was off on its own, sitting pretty far away from any of its neighbors. My eyes went wide as I really took in just how freaking big the place was

  I turned off the engine and sat there in the semi darkness, staring at the house. What the hell was I even doing here? I mean, right then is when I should have turned around and gone home, except right then is when I heard it.

  A high, lilting moan, drifting in the stillness of the evening.

  I froze, squinting up at the house. Upstairs on the second floor, a big floor-to-ceiling window lit up to reveal the ultra-modern interior bedroom, and I heard that giggling female moan again. And then, I saw them.

  The very same little slut from the text message pictures came giggling into the room, being chased by none other than my fiancé. Well, very decidedly ex-fiancé at this point, I can promise you that.

  But I felt my blood boil nevertheless as I watch Tim grab her and toss her onto the bed up there, jumping on top of her and making her squeal. I just sat there and watched as piece after piece of clothing came stripping off and flying across the room, just staring as my asshole ex undressed this tramp of a girl.

  I knew I should have driven off right then, or hell, lit that bitch’s house on fire. But something stopped me.

  I watched, almost frozen as this sexy little home wrecker climbed on top of Tim, pushing him down on the bed, straddling him as she flung her bra off. I could see her working at his belt and then his zipper, and I squinted to see her take his extremely average-sized cock out and start stroking it.

  Okay, enough was enough; it was time to get the hell out of here.

  I reached down to turn on the engine, when I saw it. There, sitting in the middle compartment of the car dashboard, was a small pair of birding binoculars.

  I went stone solid and just stared at them. There’s no way they were Tim’s, and I had a hard time believing she was much of a bird-watcher. But whosever they were, my eyes bounced immediately from them to the lit window I’d been squinting to peer at.

  And that is how I came to be sitting in a dark car that wasn’t mine, feeling my pulse jump higher and higher, my cheeks getting redder and redder as I looked through binoculars at my asshole ex getting his cock sucked by another girl.

  I wanted to look away, and part of me wanted to
scream. And yet somehow, part of me felt something else. Disturbingly, and annoyingly, part of me was actually getting turned on watching this.

  Maybe it was the lingering heat from my fantasy easier, or even from before that, when the gorgeous cop had put his hands on me. And maybe it was that Tim and I had lost that spark long before I’d seen the text messages.

  Whatever it was though, somehow, I was able to look at the scene in front of me and feel the raw desire pulse between my legs.

  With the binoculars, I had a full, close-up view of them, and as much as I wanted to pretend it wasn’t, my own pussy was getting wetter and wetter by the second. I could feel my own slippery heat soaking the thin thong panties I’d tossed on under a little summer skirt as I’d dashed out the door back home. I was still wearing my bikini top, and as I parted my legs slightly in the front seat of the convertible, I felt deliciously naughty — almost as if I was sitting there practically naked.

  The aching need in my pussy demanded my attention more and more, and as I watched the trampy girl upstairs move down and sink her pussy over Tim’s wildly unsatisfying cock, I found myself moaning and letting my own hand trail up under my skirt. I pushed the short material higher to my hips, giving my fingers access to my aching pussy and the soaking wet thong clinging hotly to it. I moaned quietly as I pushed my fingertips beneath the fabric, teasing them over the slippery lips there as I stared through the binoculars, mouth hanging open.

  I was so wrapped up in watching, in fact, that I never even heard the car pull up behind me, never heard the two doors opening and quietly closing, or the footsteps walking towards my side of the car.

  "Well, well, twice in one day, miss?”

  I about jumped out of my skin as I yanked my hand from my pussy and jerked my head around to my side window.

  It was both of them, the blond and the dark-haired cops.

  And they looked pissed.

  "Out of the car, miss. Now."

  Chapter 7

  Dustin

  "Officer! I—”

  “I said OUT. Now,” I growled, reaching out, unlatching her door, and swinging it open.

  I froze.

  When we’d spotted Samantha’s car — well Maria’s car, I guess — parked out front of the house we were surveilling, the plan was—

  Well, in truth, there was no plan, we’d just acted like a single mind when we’d seen her. I wasn’t sure what we’d been thinking we’d do, but I know I spoke on impulse when I’d stepped up to the car to see her peering through binoculars at the house. It was the same “gruff bad cop” voice I’d used before when we pulled her over.

  Maybe I was expecting that wide-eyed blush again, or maybe a smile. Maybe I wanted to see if she remembered us, or if her eyes would light up again like when I’d had her bent over the front of her car.

  What neither of us were expecting was that when we stepped up to that car, we’d see Samantha Caraway with her hand buried between her thighs and a low moan on her lips.

  Yeah, not expecting that by a fucking mile.

  And so, when I yanked her door open, we both froze, our bodies going rigid as we stared at her staring up at us, those big blue eyes like deer in headlights and that guilty blush across her face.

  "Well, well, well…” I whistled lowly, my pulse jumping inside of my chest, my cock thickening to steel in my pants as Samantha quickly jerked her hand away from her panties. I dragged my fingers across my stubble, my eyes hungrily drinking it all in.

  Shit.

  I’d already crossed one line with her, when I’d done that ridiculously unnecessary pat down on the side of the road. And now? Seeing her like this?

  Well fuck, now I knew I was going to be stepping over that line again, in a very big way.

  "Having a nice time out here by yourself tonight?”

  She blushed furiously at Blake’s words, her eyes darting down. Quickly, she smoothed her skirt down over her thighs, hand clasping together as her eyes darted to the binoculars sitting on the seat next to her.

  And then, as if on cue, the soft lilting giggle of a woman’s voice came tinkling through the dusky twilight from the Santiago house, followed by some pathetic-sounding male grunts.

  Blake and I glanced at each other; suddenly what was going on here sunk in. Blake’s brow twitched in that way it did when he was fighting back his demons — in the way that I knew meant my friend was wrestling with his own control.

  Fuck, I was too, with Samantha sitting there in that tiny skirt, that white bikini top, and that very guilty blush on her face. I also felt bad for her, though. I mean, shit, a girl like Samantha did not deserve the shit Tim was putting her through, or would put her through when he went to trial.

  Her eyes darted back to us, and this time, they lingered. This time, she bit her bottom lip in her teeth, and that same fiercely hungry look we’d seen before came flashing back to her face.

  She was embarrassed, for sure, but there was something else there, something wild, and something begging for more. She swallowed thickly, her eyes dipping down over us, and I swear to God, they lingered on the probably-obviously bulges at the front of both our uniforms.

  And she licked her fucking lips.

  Fuck.

  I felt my hands clench into fists, my pulse racing faster and faster. We’d pushed things too far when we’d pulled her over, and when I put my hands on her. But hell, we’d pushed things too far when they’d put us two on surveillance duty on her. Because for a month now, my friend and I had been slowly obsessing over this girl. For a month now, we’d been watching her, and seeing how fucking incredible she was, and learning how damn perfect she was.

  For a month now, we’d been falling for the girl it was our job to watch.

  We’d never said it out loud, even to each other. But I knew we’d both been feeling it, and what’s more, we both knew the other was feeling it. I remembered a few weeks before, when we’d gone out to hit the bars together — something Blake still did, even sober. It was sort of his whole “face your demons head on and tell them to get fucked” approach to sobriety. We’d just come off a thirty-six-hour shift of watching Sam, and it may have been the first day when two things clicked for both of us.

  One, that she was becoming more than an obsession — more than just a hot girl we got to watch. In fact, she was becoming WAY more than that.

  The second thing that clicked for us that night was that she was and never ever possibly could be ours. Not ever, and that stung.

  We’d gone out cruising that night, our blood pumping hot from Samantha, our desires focused on one fucking thing. We’d chatted plenty of girls up that night — I mean, without being vain, two guys who looked like us didn’t exactly have a hard time chatting women up in bars. We were also pretty quick to make our, I guess you could say “team intentions” pretty clear to the girls we got talking to. Some looked scandalized, of course, but the ones whose interest got piqued?

  Oh, they stayed.

  Blake and I had shared plenty of women over the years — actually, it sort of became our thing, I guess. We’d even tried dating the same girls, usually to disastrous results — usually from the girl freaking out or not being able to handle it. That night though, we’d gone out hungry for something immediate and temporary.

  Except we had a problem: none of the girls we’d chatted up, or grinned charming smiles at, or whose hands trailed up our arms, or whose knowing bedroom eyes batted at us were her.

  None of them were Samantha.

  We’d even found one that sort of looked like her — similar hair, and similar body, but it just wasn’t there. She’d flat out asked us to come out to her car with her, telling us she “couldn’t wait” to know what it felt like to have two guys filling her up “everywhere.”

  We’d smiled, bought her one more drink, and walked away.

  That’s what Samantha Caraway did to us.

  And now here she was, looking at us with those fierce, hungry eyes, like I’d actually dreamed about.
<
br />   We’d both dreamed about seeing that look in her eyes directed at us, and right then, I could feel both of our willpowers shattering.

  “Wait here,” I growled at her, before snagging Blake’s arm and yanking him away with me.

  “You’re slipping,” I hissed at him, our backs to Samantha. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Oh, fuck you, you’re slipping too,” he shot back, his biceps flexing as he swallowed down the heat from his face.

  “You know what she was doing when we—”

  “Yeah, I know, man.”

  We glanced at each other.

  “What’s the move here,” I growled.

  “The move is to get the fuck out of here,” Blake groaned back. “The move is to leave this be and forget we ever talked to her today.”

  “Fuck,” I swore, my mind reeling, as if being this close to her was having some sort of drugging effect on me. “Okay, let’s just—”

  “Officers? Can I just expl—”

  Blake and I both whirled at the sound of her voice from right behind us. But then, we hadn’t expected her to be right behind us.

  Samantha gasped, tumbling backwards as the force of both of us turning right into her started to knock her back. Both of us exploded into action on impulse, lurching out to catch her and yank her close.

  And time froze.

  Because suddenly, we were standing in the southern California twilight, with Samantha fucking Caraway in our arms.

  The skin of her bare back pulsed hot under my fingers, her small hand gripping my rippling forearm tightly. She was doing the same to Blake, and her eyes went wide as they darted between us.

  We were all so close — so close we could feel the heat from her body, and hear the way her breath gasped as it caught in her throat.

  And right there, I knew we’d been wrong.

  Yeah, we weren’t going to “get the fuck out of here” or “forget we’d ever talked to her.”

  We weren’t going anywhere, with that angel in our arms.