The one underneath me started to squirm, but I held firm, keeping both women subdued for the whole fifteen minutes until backup had arrived.
It was unlucky for me that I’d been working the backstretch of our area that day, because that meant that no help was forthcoming for a while.
By the time backup had arrived, I had both women in the back seat of my car, and they were trying to bust my cruiser’s windows with their flimsy excuse for heels.
One had even managed to crack the window in her haste to tell me how much she’d hated me.
“What the heck happened?”
That was the first statement I’d heard in the last fifteen minutes that hadn’t had a curse word weaved into it somewhere.
“Well, it all started when I ran the plate after I clocked them speeding and weaving in and out of traffic…”
***
I watch it again. And again. And again.
Over and over until I’m nearly sick.
What the video showed was completely different than what had actually happened. Or, at least, only the ending without little explanation of how it’d gotten to that point.
I yank the woman out of the car by her hair, then throw her to the ground and straddle her back roughly while tugging her arms behind her.
All the while I’m screaming at the person with the phone to ‘stand down!’ and ‘don’t fucking move!’
Except the phone’s shining in my eyes, and all it looks like is that I’m yelling while sitting on the woman beneath me.
My eyes squeezed shut.
“You’re gonna come to sleep, aren’t you?” I heard Audrey ask from the doorway.
I hit pause on the computer, and looked up to find her leaning against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over her middle, her eyes hooded with sleep.
“Yeah,” I lied. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Tell me what happened that night,” she ordered, walking toward me.
Putting the computer on the side table, I leaned back in my La-Z-Boy and dropped my head backwards, staring at the ceiling in frustration.
“I was doing my normal thing on the interstate and major highways in my area. Running it, looking for suspicious activity, et cetera. I was approaching the end of my shift and was sent to a domestic dispute at an interstate truck stop. I was heading towards the truck stop when I spotted a car in front of me traveling at an accelerated rate of speed and weaving in and out of traffic, almost as if she had someone chasing her. In and out, with only inches to spare, until she came into heavier traffic that she couldn’t weave through. So she just passed them on the emergency side lane.”
As I told her the story, her face softened.
“I once saw a YouTube video that shows how fast an officer has to think on the fly,” she murmured, looking up to catch my eyes. “The bad thing is, that you now have to run on your instincts and gut reactions when it comes to your safety. If you thought that was necessary, then it probably was. Though, even if it wasn’t, it’s a good time to always be proactive. What if you hadn’t reacted and you’d been stabbed or shot and killed?”
I didn’t like to think about that.
I was more than aware of the consequences. I’ve attended nine police officer funerals in my years as a cop. I knew better than she did the sacrifices we had to make each day, and the possibility of putting that shield on over our hearts one day, but not the next.
She moved until she was standing in front of me, and my gaze was caught by the long t-shirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs.
“I just want to forget,” I told her. “I want to spend the next two hours doing what I want to do. Tomorrow, I might not have a job after I explain what happened on my end of things. Again. To the investigators.”
She moved, placing one foot on the edge of the recliner I was sitting in, right next to my left hip.
“I have just the thing to give you a distraction,” she murmured.
In the low light from the lamps I’d turned on when I came into my office, I could see very clearly that she wasn’t wearing any panties.
My hand lifted to touch the inside of her knee, then trailed down the length of her thigh and calf to come to a rest at her ankle.
“I’m warning you now,” I said softly. “That I’m not in the right frame of mind to give you what you need.”
She lifted her other leg and brought her other foot to rest next to my other hip. She was standing on the recliner, looking down at me, the seam of my t-shirt on her thighs resting just inches from my face.
Her hands went to my hair, and she pulled roughly to force me to look up at her.
“You’ve given me what I’ve needed,” she told me bluntly. “I’m not scared. Not of you. Not of what you can give me. So, if rough is what you need, then rough is what I’ll give you.”
She leaned forward and lifted one knee, planting it just to the side of my head, and slowly started to lift her shirt.
I was thankful for the wall that was behind my chair, making it to where the chair wouldn’t flip backwards with the added weight and the precarious angle she was putting us at.
She was so close to my face that when she inched the shirt higher and higher, my beard started to tickle.
“Audrey…” I tried again.
By this point, my chivalrous nature was slowly starting to slip, and the angry asshole who wanted nothing more than to beat someone’s ass was taking over.
I may not want to beat Audrey’s ass, at least not in a way that permanently harmed her, but I wanted to fuck it.
I wanted to take her roughly and do things to her that would likely set us back to square one, if not permanently end us altogether.
But she was having none of it.
The moment my mouth opened, she yanked my head forward and dropped her knee, planting her pussy directly onto my face without answering my worries.
My hand on her ankle clenched, and I drank her in.
Licking first her clit and moving down to her pussy.
I didn’t know what I wanted to focus on more, but the sweet taste of her cream was enough to force me to do one over the other.
I stiffened my tongue and drank her in, fucking her while holding on to her so tightly that I would likely cause bruising.
She either didn’t care, or didn’t notice, as she ground her pussy even harder down on my face.
When I started to remove my hands to move up to her ass, and then further to her clit, she slapped my hand.
“No, only your mouth.”
I growled, and furiously went to work with what she allowed me to use, shaking my head back and forth to rub the tip of my nose over the tiny bud of nerves that centered at the apex of her thighs.
My beard was wet with her juices, but at this point I’d consider wearing it like a fucking badge of honor for the next week—not that I would. Her brother would likely kill me.
But the thought of her scent, or her essence, staying with me was enough to send my want and need from a low hum in my loins to a raging, throbbing roar that I couldn’t ignore.