Hot Cop

by Laurelin Paige

  But I’m already backing her into the shelf, grabbing onto the edge with both hands and trapping her between my arms. “You’re going on a date tonight?”

  I can see the pulse in her throat as she struggles for an answer. But I can also see her pupils dilate, the way she arches ever so slightly towards me, the hungry way her eyes drink in the tight muscles of my forearms.

  “Yes,” she whispers. “But…”

  “But what, Livia? But you weren’t going to tell me? But you were just going to let another man touch you and want you?”

  “I had to get Megan to stop bothering me about it, and you know what? It doesn’t matter. We said we were done.”

  “We might be a lot of things,” I say in a low voice. “But done is not fucking one of them.”

  And then I bring my mouth crashing down against hers, a hard and hungry kiss that has her responding instantly, like I’d dropped a match into a puddle of kerosene. She’s pressing against me, her hands snaking into vicious pulls of my hair, digging points into the muscles of my arms. I can hear her noises, the unwilling pants and sighs she makes as she practically tries to climb my body, as my hands find her ass and her tits and her inner thighs.

  With a frustrated grunt, I yank the zipper of her pencil skirt down past her ass and then together we tug the damn thing up past her hips. I don’t wait for it to move up any farther; I break our kiss to concentrate on getting my fingers into her pussy, where I can show her exactly how done we are.

  “Let’s see if you’re wet for me,” I breathe and she groans, trying so hard to spread her legs enough to let my fingers in. The moment I touch the soaked lace of her thong, I know.

  She’s fucking wet for me.

  I push impatiently past the lace to her slit, to the hollow between her plump lower lips, and the minute my two fingers nudge her entrance, she’s grinding down on my hand and literally fucking herself on my fingers. I don’t have to move them, I don’t have to say anything to her, her body simply feels me and instinctively tries to come.

  It’s the hottest goddamn thing in the world.

  “Do that on my cock,” I rasp. I use my other hand, which is shaking, to undo my belt and my dress uniform pants. I pull my boxer briefs down enough to bare my erection, which is fury-dark and thick. “Do it on my cock.”

  She looks up at me with hungry eyes and swollen lips. “But what if a patron…”

  “I don’t fucking care,” I say through clenched teeth. “Put my cock inside you and fuck it.”

  “But someone could see…” Her protest is faint though, full of longing. I grab her waist and spin her so that I’m facing the direction someone would come from in the stacks.

  “I’ll keep watch, trust me. Now make me come. Show me what that pussy’s good for.”

  “Oh God,” she moans, my mean words doing her in just like I knew they would.

  And I’m mean for her because it turns her on, but I’m also a little bit mean for me too. I want to say things to wound her the way I’m wounded.

  Because this all hurts. I fucking love her and she has a date tonight and I’m jealous as shit and it all hurts.

  Livia wriggles out of her thong and takes my dick in her hand, licking her lips as she rubs a thumb over my slit and smears the small teardrop of precum across my crown. “This is wrong,” she whispers, and I don’t know if she means fucking in the stacks or fucking me after we said we were done.

  And it doesn’t matter.

  She turns so that she’s facing away from me, puts one elegantly high-heeled foot up on a shelf, and then guides my tip to her swollen and needy opening. She slides herself back against my shaft, letting out a shaky breath as her foot drops off the shelf. I don’t let her lean forward, instead placing an arm across her belly and curling a hand around her neck to keep her as upright as possible.

  “Now move,” I say into her ear and jabbing my cock in deeper to make my meaning clear. “Make me feel good.”

  She whimpers a little, a whimper of pure, defeated desire, and then she starts to move.

  It’s a tight fit; it’s always a tight fit in her sweet little cunt, but this position, standing up with her legs close together and my hips pressing into her ass, it’s so fucking tight that my eyes nearly roll back in my head. And she can’t really push against me while I’ve got her trapped like this, so instead she squirms and wriggles.

  She circles.

  She grinds.

  Here in the stacks, with her skirt around her waist and her high heels making dents in the industrial carpet, she rubs herself inside with my cock. And with my police uniform undone enough to show my cock, with my hair rumpled from her pulling it and her lip gloss still on my mouth, I make her.

  “Does he know my baby’s inside you?” I growl, shoving my cock in so deep that her feet nearly lift off the floor. “Does your date know that you’re mine?”

  “I’m not yours,” she says, but her voice betrays her, breaking and uncertain. And she keeps herself speared on my cock. “We don’t belong to each other.”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” I let go of her, stepping back to slide out of her cunt, and she lets out a soft, unhappy noise.

  “Give it back,” she pleads, turning to me. “I need it.”

  “Oh really?” I say, coming forward and grabbing her ass to lift her up. She wraps her legs around my waist and immediately starts trying to impale herself on my cock. “You need it?”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” she says, still desperately trying to fill her pussy again. “It just means I’m hormonal. It just means we’re sexually compatible.” But she sounds like even she knows her words are lies. She’s not fooling either of us.

  I thrust into her, her pussy so wet that it’s an easy stroke back in. Her head falls forward against my shoulder as I bottom out and I’m somewhere deep inside her belly.

  “You’re mine, princess. You were mine the moment you let me feel your bare pussy in that restaurant. You were mine the moment you let me kiss you so dirty outside of it. And you were definitely mine when you came around my cock and hoped I’d put a baby inside you.”

  Her face is in my neck. Kissing, licking, objecting. “I’m not yours,” she mumbles. And then another kiss and lick and nibble. “Oh fuck, Chase, just like that, it’s so deep, Jesus, so fucking deep.”

  “You think he’ll be able to fuck you like this?” I ask. “You think another man can make you come like I do?”

  Finally, honesty. She shakes her head. “No,” she breathes against my neck. “Only you.”

  “Fucking right there’s only me. And there’s only you, kitten. No woman makes me as hard and big as you do. No one makes me come so fucking much, for so fucking long.”

  And then I go deeper, not just with my cock but with my words, with the twisting feeling in my chest. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, Liv, I promise. I never meant for it to happen and I didn’t think I even could, but I’ve fallen for you. I want to give you more than a baby, I want to give you me. I want to give you everything.”

  Her head comes up, her body going tense and rigid in my arms. “Chase, don’t,” she begs in a whisper, her panicked eyes looking into mine. “Don’t say it. It’ll just make it harder.”

  Something cracks open in my chest, something dark.

  “You don’t want to hear it?” I say, taking a step forward so that she’s pinned against the shelves. “Fine. You can feel it.”

  Her head rolls back as I stab up into her, as I angle her hips so that each pump and stroke works her clit against my body. Her tits—so large and plump and swollen from the baby—bounce deliciously, and I want to suck on them. I want to wrap them in pretty ropes, I want to push them together and shove my slicked up cock through them.

  “Go on your date, kitten,” I say, fucking her now with deep, brutal thrusts. “I dare you. You go and see if he makes you feel like I make you feel. But you’re going to go with my baby in your belly, and you’re going to go with my cum dripping do
wn your thigh. You’re going to sit across from him sore and sticky and used. You’re going to sit across from him remembering how hard you come for me and only me.”

  Her hands are everywhere, searching for anything to hold on to, and I feel it the moment she detonates at my words, a shuddering, gasping detonation as she trembles and quakes in my arms.

  And she chants my name like it’s the only thing that can save her, oh God Chase please Chase Chase Chase, and when she says it, I know I’ve got her. At least tonight, at least for one night, she’s completely mine. No matter how good her dinner is, no matter how handsome and charming her date, she gave her entire self over to me to be marked and pleasured and fucked.

  With that thought, I let myself go. I hammer into her with short, hard strokes, I imagine her sitting at a restaurant still sticky and damp with my cum, I imagine her getting home and fingering her still-wet pussy as she thinks of me. It’s the image of that—of her spread on her bed, her fingers wet with my cum and eagerly fucking her pussy—that draws my balls up so tight I think I might die. And then I explode.

  I can’t roar out my orgasm in the middle of this quiet library, so I growl my way through it, grunting with each thick pulse of my cum, each eruption of my hot, angry release. She takes me, takes it all, every cruel thrust and every surge, still whispering my name in that prayer voice as my own orgasm keeps hers going and going and going.

  It takes a long time to unload in her, my balls are so full. But eventually, finally, we are both still, both panting and dizzy and emptied out.

  I set her down as gently as I can, holding on to her waist at first because she seems a little wobbly. She balances herself with a hand on a shelf and then, dazed, adjusts her skirt and searches for her thong. I find it first, tucking it in my pocket and then buttoning my own pants back up.

  Livia takes a deep breath.

  “I’m still not yours, Chase. And you can’t be mine.”

  “Kitten, I—”

  “Don’t say it,” she pleads, her eyes starting to shine. “You can’t say it.”

  “Let me,” I plead back, taking her face in my hands. “Let me.”

  She shakes her head, dewdrops of pain starting to form on her lashes. “You’ll leave. All men do.”

  “No, Liv. I’m not going to leave.”

  “You’re going to want other women.”

  The hurt in her voice guts me. I want to pull down trees and wrestle with lions and jump into fires—anything to prove to her that she’s it, she’s the only thing I see and smell and want. “No,” I breathe, begging with my face and my hands and my voice for her to see. “It’s you, baby. I choose you. There’s no one else after you or beside you, there’s nothing I want other than our real thing.”

  She swallows and blinks away, tears spilling out of her eyes now. “You’re going to die.”

  “Everyone’s going to die. That doesn’t mean we stop living.”

  She lifts her chin, and for the first time today, I see a shadow in her face that I’ve never seen before. Or maybe I’ve seen it before, but never this dark, never this full of broken certainty. The tears track glistening streaks down this shadow, this shadow that I now realize is a wall she’s built to protect herself.

  “You have to go get the boys,” she says, wiping her tears away with quick, vicious motions. “And I have to get ready to close the building. We can’t do this.”

  “We have to do this,” I tell her, leaning my forehead against hers and wiping more tears away with my thumbs. “Because I’m not giving up.”

  “You should,” she says in a hollow voice, pulling away from me.

  And then she walks down the aisle of books and disappears, leaving my thumbs still wet with her tears and my chest wet and sawed wide open with pain.

  18

  Livia

  “I’ll kill him,” Megan mutters when she finds me closing up the library a few minutes later. I hid in the bathroom long enough for Chase to leave the building, so I already know what I look like. “What did he do?”

  I wipe at my eyes, but it’s useless. They keep leaking, an endless stream of hurt. “Nothing.” I shut down the computer at the main desk. “No one. What did who do?”

  She glares at me like she can see right through me. “Chase. This was Chase, wasn’t it?”

  “No. No.” I don’t know why I’m so determined to keep this a secret. Our relationship has blown up, and I’m fully aware I have no control over it anymore.

  Only minutes ago, he was inside me. I can still feel him, my pussy aching where he pierced into me. He fucked me hard and deep, like he wanted to be all the way inside me. Like he was trying to reach my heart.

  He has no idea how completely he already has.

  But I’m only just beginning to process the things that he said to me. I need time to let it settle and sort before I can talk about it properly, and if I admit anything to Megan, I’ll have to admit it all.

  I move to the back room and make sure the door is locked before shutting it. When I look back at Megan, her arms are folded over her chest. “My ass this wasn’t Chase.”

  Of course she’s going to make this hard for me.

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “Why would Chase make me cry?”

  I go to turn the main lights off, not waiting for an answer. If she thinks she knows something, she can just come out and say it. I’m too exhausted to play this game.

  She follows behind me. “If it’s not Chase, what is it?”

  “I’m pregnant, Megan. I cry at everything.”

  “Tell me then. What thing set it off?” She’s a fiend for gossip, but I know she isn’t just trying to get a scoop. She really does care, and the frustration laced in her tone is mingled with compassion and concern.

  She deserves something from me.

  I flick the switches then turn to her and give her a splash of truth. “Those boys,” I lament in a whisper. “Those two boys.”

  “Officer Eaker’s?”

  I nod and clear my throat before going on. “They’re going to grow up without a father now, just because their dad was trying to be one of the good guys.”

  “Oh, Liv.” She pulls me into a bear hug and strokes my hair with long soothing sweeps of her hand. “But death is a risk that goes with the good guy thing. Gran never liked that part of Chase’s job. I think she worried about it until the day she died. Honestly, it’s probably why Chase doesn’t let anyone get too close to him.” She leans away to meet my eyes. “Jason’s wife knew what she was getting into before she married him, if that makes you feel better. She chose him anyway.”

  I shake my head. It doesn’t make me feel better at all. “His kids didn’t get a choice. Now they’re fatherless.”

  “That is worth crying about,” she concedes. “Losing a parent while you’re young is especially hard.”

  I hear the raw threads of experience in her tone. I didn’t have a father growing up, but I never knew him. I have no memories to mourn over. No sad reminders.

  “Is it as terrible as I imagine?” I ask her, slipping out of her embrace.

  It’s Megan, so I’m expecting a speech. But all she says is, “Yeah. It is.”

  That’s all the validation I need. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Don’t want to think about it.

  I finish locking up the doors and hold the last one open so Megan can go first before I follow her out. After making sure the door has latched, I look up at her, pleadingly.

  Somehow, she reads my mind. “Do you need to cancel tonight?”

  “Yeah.” Relief wraps around me. “I do. I’m sorry.”

  “No problem. I understand. I’ll make an excuse for you.”

  “Thank you. I owe you.” I look around before heading to my car, afraid Chase will pop out of nowhere. I can’t take seeing him yet. I need distance and some solid time to think.

  Megan notices my hesitation. “You’re all clear. He took the kids as soon as he came out of the library and got out of here in a hurry.”<
br />
  I nod in gratitude before realizing that I’ve just admitted that I am, at the very least, avoiding Chase.

  Sighing, I try to come up with an excuse. “It’s not—” But I don’t know what else to say. I’m tired of excuses. I’m tired, period.

  “Don’t worry about it, Liv. He’s my brother. I already know.”

  With that, I go home to sort out what I already know.

  The first thing I do when I walk through my door is run to the bathroom and throw up.

  Nausea has been slowly creeping in, but this is the first time I’ve actually felt sick enough to need the toilet. After I’m done, I sit with my back against the tub and lean my face against the cool tile of the bathroom wall like I’ve done many a night after drinking a little too much. It seems appropriate. Being pregnant with Chase’s baby feels exactly like a hangover after partying a little too hard.

  Partying a lot too hard.

  It’s been a long day. A long, hard day. There’s so much swimming in my brain. My head and my body have been in constant replay mode of our earlier encounter in the library. The dirty things. The sweet things. The break-down-my-walls things. I’ve fallen for you. I want to give you me. I want to give you everything.

  But then, like I told Megan, I picture those two little boys without Officer Eaker, and those little faces look so much like Chase in my head and the walls around me build right back up.

  The problem is I can’t stay away from him.

  And it seems, he can’t stay away from me.

  I know what I have to do. It’s a bigger thing than I’d planned to do, but I was probably always naive to think there was any other way. If I can’t put distance between Chase and me figuratively, I’ll have to do it literally.

  I let myself be miserable about it for the length of a good cry. Then I get up off the floor, brush my teeth, and go call my realtor to tell her I want to put my condo up for sale.

  I awake the next morning to the sound of someone knocking on my door.

  “Who the hell drops in?” I frustratingly ask the empty room. It’s a worse offense than calling. Doesn’t anyone just text anymore?