Chapter 2
Juliette
This was happening. I’d heard about small-town policemen who thought they were above the law.
All these years, I’d kept my mouth shut with my family for the sake of peace.
Now, at all times, I’d decided to be flippant toward a raging, megalomaniac officer of the law.
It was the stress of moving out—real-life consequences for my actions.
He filled that uniform out pretty well, but why wear the hat?
Yes, he was most likely bald.
Hmm. Maybe he wore a girdle.
What man had a waist that slim, with shoulders like that?
What was he even doing back there?
God—his sexy voice in my ear.
Don’t move a single inch… or else…
It had to be the formal dark uniform—the shimmering badge, the holster, that duty belt. Daunting enough without those intense blue eyes peeking out from beneath his hat. I thought I only had a thing for firemen and their hoses, but apparently not.
I needed to dig out some of the spicy books I’d found shoved to the back of my wardrobe. I was sure I had a policeman in there somewhere.
When I heard his heavy footsteps approach, my mind went silent as I waited. I wiggled my wrists. There was no need for handcuffs. I was hardly a threat to him.
“Do you have any dangerous or sharp objects on your person?”
“If I did, they’d be stabbed in your eyes by now,” I snarked, rolling my eyes.
What was wrong with me? Why was I making this worse?
“Was that a threat to an officer of the law, Ms Morgan?” he drawled, and it just rubbed me the wrong way.
That asshole smugness.
Argh—he reminded me of Jennifer.
“If it were a threat, you’d know about it,” I said, glaring over my shoulder.
His smug smile waned, and a dark shadow passed over his face, settling in his eyes. He moved forward, his hips bumping against my ass. The gravel scraped beneath his foot as he slid it beside me. The heat of his hand was on my lower back when he forced me to spread my legs.
“Keep those legs spread and don't move,” he murmured.
The cool air stung my throat as I tried to catch my breath.
Then the hot, blue-eyed devil lifted my skirt. His movement was slow and deliberate as the cool air rushed to my legs… thighs and—
“What are you doing?” I shrieked; panic made my voice shrill.
“Just as I suspected. Granny pants.”
“You son of a—” I began, but my cheeks bloomed with shame.
He wasn’t wrong. But also, fuck him.
“Now, now. You’re already facing a multitude of charges.”
What?
Was he drunk?
Off his head?
“Not complying—”
“I doubt that’s covered in the penal code,” I huffed.
“Driving under the influence,” he continued, “resisting arrest.”
“Why, you—”
“Threatening an officer.”
His fingers hooked around my white cotton panties and he began to pull them down. I gasped and tried to straighten my back.
“I suggest you remain still. These granny pants could hold a whole arsenal of weapons and I need to be thorough.”
“You sick fu—”
“Every time you're disrespectful you’ll get spanked, Ms Morgan.”
What kind of a town was this?
I whimpered when he pushed my underwear down my thighs.
His hand moved along my inner thigh until my legs trembled. His fingertips inched higher.
“I’ll tell you what, Ms Morgan. If your pussy is bone dry, I’ll let you off with a speeding ticket,” he said leaning over me until my feet slipped. “But if your wet you’ll take what I give you and thank me for it.”
Oh, no. No. No. No.
My arms jerked as his fingers brushed against my pussy.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” His voice was lower than before, almost amused.
I sagged against the warm hood of his car with a groan. He chuckled and moved back, but I felt him unlock the handcuffs. I sighed in relief. I was about to apologise for being rude when he hauled me up and handcuffed my hands in front of me.
I gaped at him, but he bent down and tugged my underwear off, lifting my foot until the white material lay in the dirt. The road had no traffic, and there were no houses around, only fields. Before I could react, he had me bent over the hood again.
“Palms on my cruiser, Ms Morgan,” he drawled as he bunched my skirt around my waist.
“Officer—”
“Now,” he bellowed, and I shoved my hands out.
“Spread those legs wider.”
“Oh, my God,” I whispered, slowly inching my feet apart.
“Good girl,” he crooned while my heart pounded.
Then I heard it.
His zipper purred along its path, quiet and controlled—zzzzrrrp—a thread of sound stretched thin and even. He paused, and then the sound was light, close to nothing—just the brush of fabric in motion, slow and intentional.
I wasn't helpless because of the handcuffs or the fact that I lay spread-eagled for him. It was the horrifying shame from my need. Months of solitude, locked away in my room or buried in work. The anxiety of taking even one step toward freedom. There had been no time left for me—for this.
His hands moved to my hips, but he didn't move.
“Push that wet little cunt back and I’ll fill you up,” he said, tugging my blouse from my skirt.
When I didn't move, his hands slipped beneath my blouse until he wedged them between the metal and my breasts. He cupped them through the lace before his fingers coaxed and massaged them.
My fingers pressed into the hood, and I pushed back until I felt his cock. It was substantial in width.
“Yeah, give me that pussy,” he groaned, pushing forward while he toyed with my hardening nipples. “Take my hard cock.”
His hand moved between us, and he guided the thick head into my pussy.
“Dirty little whore,” he whispered as he spread my insides open. “Taking a stranger's cock over the hood of his car.”
I moaned shamelessly, not considering the consequences of my actions as I strained to take his length. He pulled me back and placed my fingers over the bottom of the hood.
“You’ll still feel me inside you tonight,” he said, gripping my ass in his hand.
I shuddered and felt myself drip.
He pulled back only to thrust deep inside me, and I cried out, feeling the full force of his cock driving into me.
“I’m going to own this tight hole,” he snarled.
He grabbed my hips and began to pile drive into me until I howled.
“Oh, God. Yes.”
“Oh, yeah. Just like that. Your tight little hole is soaking me,” he laughed. “You like that, don't you? You like my cock fucking you hard.”
I could barely breathe, but I managed a nod.
His thrusts got rougher, sloppier until the sound of him slapping against me with each deep thrust was all I could hear. I felt my pussy clutch at him with every brutal movement.
“Yeah, work that pussy like a good girl,” he rasped in my ear. “Let me feel it.”
I fluttered around him, and I knew I was close.
He groaned, shoving deeper, harder, like he would brand me from the inside out. I began to pant and move my ass back and forth until I couldn't breathe. I came so hard that I reared my head up. My cries filled the air.
“Oh, fuck. I’m gonna come in this tight cunt.”
I was too busy grinding myself on him and squeezing every last ounce of pleasure from the feel of his hard cock. I collapsed on the hood. He came with a low growl, slamming so deep inside me that I felt his balls press against me. The bumper dug into my legs as his hot come filled me up.
My eyes shot open even as I contracted around him.
“I’m not on the pill, you asshole,” I said, trying to buck him off.
His fingers tightened around my hips, holding me in place until he’d finished.
“You know where I am,” he offered, casual as anything.
“What the hell? Get off me, you big oaf,” I said, wondering if I cleaned myself out with the wet wipes in the car, I could prevent a pregnancy with a psychotic cop.
His body tensed for a moment, but I gasped when he pushed back, only to thrust back into me.
“You're pushing it in deeper. What is wrong with you?” I screamed.
He bent over me, pushing me into the hood and continued to fuck his come deeper. I could feel it spill out of me.
“I bet you won't speed again. Then again, you might,” he said with a chuckle.