by Ranae Rose
The bare head. For the second time ever, they were going to fuck without a condom. She’d been on the pill for almost two months, but this’d be the first time they’d had real sex since the shooting. For weeks they’d used their mouths and hands on each other, but Jesus, was he ready for this again.
“The only thing that hurts is waiting.” His dick was harder than he’d known it could get, throbbing so close to her hot flesh. He could feel the heat radiating from her body and it tortured him with visions of thrusting in and burying himself to the balls.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, the curve of her ring pressing into his skin. It was as warm as her fingers, and he liked the feel of it there. The sight of the diamond shining on her finger, and the idea of her being his forever, made him groan with longing.
“Okay.” She spread her knees a little wider, and her folds touched the tip of his cock. “Just remember: we can stop if it’s too much. We can stop and I can suck your cock, or—”
“You’re killing me, Princess.” He locked gazes with her. “I mean it. If you don’t sit down on my dick right now, the disappointment’s going to kill me.”
Her hand tightened on his shoulder, her nails just barely biting. The feeling caused an extra surge of lust to rush southward through his veins, pooling in his groin.
His cock was swollen, tight. A bead of moisture ran slowly down from the top, where her slick skin touched his. His balls ached as if someone had them in their fist and was squeezing mercilessly.
When she lowered herself down, he groaned as if he were dying.
For a second, he thought maybe he was. Feeling her pussy stretch around his bare shaft made dying of pleasure seem completely possible.
He stared at her face, her shoulders and her hard, pink nipples – anywhere but at her pussy, where her lips were split around the base of his erection. If he looked, he’d come before they even got started.
“Jackson…” Her voice was half sigh, half whisper. And then she rocked on top of him, her pussy tightening.
“Fuck.” He grabbed her hips and squeezed, pulling her down tighter on top of his lap. All he wanted was to get deeper inside her; the fact that it made his leg ache didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except for her and the way her pussy squeezed his shaft.
His heart pounded, and he wanted to pound into her. But the way she was rocking was so good, he couldn’t bring himself to disrupt it.
He didn’t know how long he could hold out, either. Not after so much deprivation and with this being only the second time they’d gone without a condom. It was just them, and the friction their bodies created was overwhelming, like a hit of a potent drug.
So he pressed fingertips to her clit and rubbed until she started to moan.
The way her muscles tightened – inside and outside – and the way she squeezed her eyes shut echoed the sentiment those moans imparted. He waited to feel the first spasm strong enough to take his breath away, and it wasn’t long before it came.
Her pussy clenched so tight it almost hurt, in the best way possible. He kept touching her clit, raising his hips so that they were pressed hard against hers and his cock drove deeper into her.
She gasped, and he kept up what he was doing until she stopped.
Afterward she leaned forward, pressing her upper body against his.
He wrapped his arms around her and thrust into her, groaning as her hair brushed his knuckles. She’d always been tight and warm, but without a condom, he could feel how wet she was, too.
There was no better feeling.
He kept thrusting, ignoring the way his thigh muscles protested. The pleasure outweighed the pain and he came so hard he forgot he’d ever been wounded, let alone that those wounds still hurt.
She clung to him as he poured into her, her nails digging into his shoulders.
He squeezed her ass and had to work to catch the breath pleasure had knocked out of him. He only stopped moving when it hurt too much to continue, and then he held her close for a while before pulling out.
She lay on the bed beside him and he held her left hand, noting the contrast of her soft skin and the hard band of gold she’d let him put on her finger that day.
“Are we going to move in together before the wedding?” he asked.
She smiled. “We practically have already. When was the last time you spent the night at your own place?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“When are you going to break the news to Elijah?”
“Today, if you’re serious.”
“I am.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “Life is short and strange. I want to spend every day I can with you.”
“All right, Princess. I guess I’ll be moving into your castle, since you don’t have a roommate.”
“Does that mean you’re formally accepting the title of Prince Charming?”
He grimaced. “Hell no.”
“You know what the alternative is, right?” Her eyes lit up with humor, and she smirked.
He pressed his mouth against hers before she could say another word, silencing her first with his lips and then with his tongue. The embarrassing nicknames she loved to throw around were a great excuse to kiss her, hard.
“Come on,” she said when they finally broke apart. “I’ll be taking your last name, so it’s only fair.”
“I decide what’s fair around here, Mrs. Calder. I’m the one with the law behind me.”
She arched a brow. “Is that so, Officer?”
“It is.”
“Good luck getting me to believe that. You weren’t even going to show up for court over that ticket you wrote me.”
“Consider that a warning. You won’t get off so easy in the future.”
“And what exactly are you going to do to me if you catch me speeding again?”
“Cuff you. Most likely to this bed.” His cock started stiffening again at the thought.
He was definitely going to do that, regardless of how good her driving was or wasn’t.
She pressed her hand against his shaft, her eyes sparkling. “I have to admit, that seems … fair.”
He groaned as she rubbed her hand up and down the length of his dick. “Yeah, and you got off with just a fine last time. I’ve noticed you driving pretty fast lately, though, and that’s not safe. It doesn’t seem like the fine taught you much of a lesson.”
“Old habits are hard to break; a fine’s not going to cut it.”
He wished like hell that he had a pair of cuffs with him, but he didn’t – his uniforms and equipment were all back at his place.
“Let’s go over to my apartment tonight and get some of my stuff.”
“Already?”
“Just a few things.”
“Like what?”
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her up against his hard cock. “You’ll see.”
Her smile made his chest expand, not with breath, but with happiness. Life was better than it had ever been. Hell, it was even fun.
And it was about to become even more so – she just didn’t know it yet.
EPILOGUE
“How was work?” Belle threw open the door, unable to save her question for when Jackson stepped inside.
He stood on the stoop, looking mouthwatering in uniform. Despite everything, he was the spitting image of himself on the day he’d pulled her over this past summer. To look at him, you’d think he’d never been hurt.
The January chill rushed into the apartment, but it couldn’t touch her while she was looking at him – he was too hot.
“Good.” He pulled his sunglasses off and met her gaze. “I spent all day looking forward to getting home, though.”
“Yeah, right.” She stepped aside so he could come in, fully aware that he’d been anticipating returning to work like some people looked forward to dying and going to heaven.
“You calling me a liar?” He pressed the door shut, locked the deadbolt and held her gaze.
“Yes.”
> “I guess I’ll have to show you how wrong you are.” He reached for his duty belt, and something silver flashed in his hand.
Cuffs. Her heart skipped a beat, and her pussy drew tight.
“I made dinner to celebrate your first day back,” she said. “All your favorites.”
“After,” he said, reaching for her wrist.
After one click, he pulled her close and crushed his mouth against hers.
He tasted like coffee and smelled like winter island air and sweat. She couldn’t have cared less.
Something hard pressed against her belly, and it wasn’t his gun.
She kissed him back as her plans for the evening melted away. When she raised her other hand, intending to press it to the back of his head, he grabbed it and secured it behind her back with the other cuff.
“I love you, Belle.” He pulled back just far enough to speak. “More than anything, and that includes my work. Don’t ever think I’m not looking forward to coming home to you more than anything else.”
He kissed her again, his tongue sliding hard against hers, and then straightened, meeting her eyes.
“I love you too.”
His tough cop expression cracked, giving way to a smile. “Good. Now let’s have some fun.”
Thank you for reading Dark Blue.
Things are just beginning to heat up on South Island. Elijah’s story is coming next – look for Past Midnight (South Island PD, #2) in winter 2016.
Want to know as soon as Book 2 releases?
Join the South Island PD Series new release e-mail notification list here.
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Love Southern men in uniform? Read on for a sample of Ranae’s Lock and Key Series.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ranae Rose is the best-selling author of more than thirty adult romances and counting. She lives in the sunny South with her man in uniform, children, German Shepherd dogs and overflowing bookshelves. Writing and reading are lifelong passions that consume most of her time, and she’s always working on bringing her latest love story idea to life for readers.
www.ranaerose.com
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Keep reading for a sample of Officer Next Door, Book 1 in Ranae’s Lock and Key Series.
Officer Next Door
Lock and Key, #1
How can anyone resist temptation when it’s right next door?
Riley County North Carolina has a lot to offer: coastal views as far as the eye can see, and men in uniform who are even more gorgeous. Home to the most notorious prison in the state, Alicia’s new hometown is crawling with men who carry their own handcuffs and know how to use them – like Officer Liam Alexander, her one and only neighbor. After catching him out of uniform, she can’t resist pausing to enjoy the show. When Liam’s Southern charm drives him across the property line, life gets hotter than the Carolina summer could possibly account for. Unfortunately, there’s a dark side to life in the coastal haven, even with an officer next door.
Coordinating special events at a historic – and supposedly haunted – plantation is enough to have Alicia questioning her senses and her sanity, but the spirits of the past take a backseat to a pair of escaped convicts who blaze a trail of mayhem across Riley County. Not even the most intense chemistry can survive the perils that make a sunny seaside town a dangerous place to be after dark … can it?
Chapter 1…
CHAPTER 1
The rising sun burnt on the Carolina horizon like a jewel, causing the tidal mist to light up like it’d been set on fire. It was the most gorgeous thing Alicia had ever seen, besides her naked neighbor. The sight of him stripping down lit up the morning like nothing else could – not even the extra-bold, extra-large cup of coffee she clutched as she stared through her kitchen window.
Everything about him was extra-large, too. She, however, was anything but bold.
She’d die if he knew she’d been watching him like this for the past three weeks, ever since she’d moved in. Guilt surged through her system just like her daily caffeine infusion, but that didn’t keep her from enjoying the display, all that taut muscle and bare skin.
Not even close.
“Good Lord,” she sighed, to no one but herself. DC seemed faraway already; the big city had disappeared in her rearview mirror weeks ago to be replaced by real Southern heat and charm, two things her new neighbor radiated in spades.
Not that she’d spoken to him much yet.
There’d been the occasional hello when they glimpsed each other outside, usually coming to or from work. That was it, mostly because the sight of him in uniform had a way of leaving her tongue-tied, silenced by the guilty pleasure that struck her every time she looked in his direction. She couldn’t so much as glance at him without thinking about that uniform coming off in slow motion, revealing his perfect body.
Maybe it was his fault for not closing the bathroom blinds, the ones that hung over the window directly across from the shower.
Or maybe it was her fault for enjoying the striptease with her morning coffee day after day, saying nothing.
Either way, she wasn’t complaining. Close-cropped dark hair, sun-tanned skin stretched over a six foot frame of solid muscle and an ass that appeared to be sculpted from granite, not to mention the amazing view when his back wasn’t to her: the vision had been seared into her memory, and it stayed with her even after he slung a towel around his hips and strolled out of the bathroom, disappearing from her view.
That was her cue to gulp down the rest of her coffee and pull herself together before she rushed to the Wisteria Plantation House. She’d been hired there as the special events coordinator, had moved and reshaped her life around the new job, though as she drained her coffee mug, swallowing the bitter grit that swirled at the bottom of the cup, she was so dazzled by what she’d just seen that it was sure to be a challenge just to coordinate her hair and makeup for the day, let alone an outfit.
Despite the sexually-charged fog her neighbor had left her in, she managed to brush on some cosmetic staples, twist her chestnut hair into a simple chignon and shed her robe, pulling on khaki pants and a purple blouse. As she dressed, she pretended that the brush of her own fingertips against her skin didn’t inspire imaginings of what it’d be like to feel her neighbor’s hands on her body. Lastly, she slipped on sandals, a pair with modest kitten heels that’d allow her to navigate Wisteria’s grounds without breaking an ankle.
Or so she thought. When she finally walked out the door with her purse slung over her shoulder and a travel mug in one hand, she tripped over the threshold and was launched forward through the muggy Carolina air.
She windmilled, dropping her handbag but – miracle of miracles – managing to maintain her grip on her coffee.
The mug was a fancy one that remained sealed until one pressed a button, freeing the flow of liquid within. As she bent to pick up her purse and then straightened, quickly smoothing her clothing, she realized that the anti-spill mug was the best twenty dollars she’d ever spent.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she said a silent prayer of gratitude for spill-proof technology. Her neighbor was standing on the front porch of his bungalow-style house, a cute place painted a shade of moss-green that blended right into the wooded backdrop. Judging by the way he stared, frowning in her direction, he’d seen everything.
“Are you all right?” His voice echoed across the few yards between them, sounding with a depth that sent a frisson racing down her spine.
“Yes,” she called back, forcing herself to move, to descend the little flight of stairs that led
down from her house, also bungalow-styled, but painted a fresh shade of blue that would’ve been invisible against a clear afternoon sky, had the towering pines not blocked out that particular view.
“You sure? You’re limping.”
Limping or not, she couldn’t stop staring. No longer naked, he was now just the opposite: covered from neck to toe in meticulously-ironed dark blue and black, his uniform gleaming here and there with flashes of metal – the silver shine of handcuffs and the badge he wore at his hip.
There was just something about all that silver, giving her an excuse to let her gaze rove over his groin, sparking vivid memories and scorching heat.
Which brought up another thing: sometimes, during her little spying sessions, he was hard.
Whenever he got into the shower that way and stepped out minutes later cleaner and clearly softer, her mind went wild with visions of how he might’ve spent those ten minutes behind the shower curtain.
“You’re limping,” he repeated as he descended his own stairs, boots falling heavily against the boards, then crunching against gravel.
“Twisted my ankle a little,” she managed to say. “No big deal.”
As she took another step toward her car, a distinct unsteadiness in her gait warned her that the damage had gone beyond a twisted ankle: her shoe had been affected. In fact, it felt alarmingly as if one kitten heel was no longer there.
“Maybe you should slow down.” Instead of approaching his own vehicle, he came toward her. “Put some ice on it.”
“Can’t. I’ll be late for work.” She did her best to stand up straight, hiding the fact that her shoe was broken.
