Chapter 6 - Rookie
I make it to the hallway before I have to stop, pressing my forehead against the cool wall and taking a deep breath.
My cock is so hard it's painful, throbbing in my jeans, demanding relief.
The smell of her vanilla scent still clings to me, mixed with arousal…
She was so fucking wet, I could smell it when I had her pinned against the bar.
I told a cop I wanted to fuck her virgin pussy until she was addicted to my cock. Right in the middle of the clubhouse. What the fuck is wrong with me?
I push off the wall and head back to the bar, needing alcohol to take the edge off. My hands shake slightly as I pour whiskey, downing it in one swallow before pouring another.
"That was quite a show." Beast's voice comes from behind me.
I turn to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his massive chest, beard hiding whatever expression might be on his face.
"Fuck off," I mutter, drinking the second whiskey.
"I saw everything." Beast moves into the room, his heavy footsteps echoing. "You had a cop pressed against the bar, telling her you wanted to fuck her. You realize how insane that is, right?"
"I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?" He grabs a beer from behind the bar, twisting the cap off. "Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were diving head first into something that's going to blow up in your face."
"She needed help." I pour another drink. "King approved the statement. It's handled."
"The statement is handled." Beast takes a long pull from his beer. "But that?" He gestures toward where Amanda was standing. "That's not handled. That's you taunting a cop right in the middle of our clubhouse, telling her all the filthy things you want to do to her."
"She liked it." The words come out defensive.
"I'm sure she did." Beast's expression softens slightly. "Look, I get it. She's hot. Those curves would make any man hard. But she's a cop, Rookie. And you hate cops more than anyone in this club."
"I know what she is."
"Then what's your endgame here?" Beast leans against the bar. "You give the statement tomorrow, help her keep her job, then what? You fuck her and walk away? You think she's the type who can handle that?"
I don't answer because I don't have an answer. I haven't thought past the overwhelming need to touch her, taste her, claim her. Haven't considered what comes after.
"Just be careful," Beast says quietly. "Jenny thought I didn’t care about her at first too. Took us a while to figure out the line between not caring and want is thinner than you think."
He leaves, taking his beer with him. I stare at the whiskey in my glass, Beast's words repeating in my head. The line between hate and want. That's exactly where I'm standing with Amanda—hating everything her badge represents while wanting everything her body offers.
My cock throbs again, demanding attention. I down the whiskey and head for the bathroom, locking the door behind me. My reflection in the mirror shows someone wild-eyed, desperate, on the edge of something that feels like falling.
I unzip my jeans and pull out my cock, already leaking precum. I wrap my hand around it, squeezing hard, and close my eyes.
Immediately I see her. Amanda on all fours, that ass in the air, looking back at me with those green eyes. Her black hair spread across my pillow. Those thick thighs spread wide. That virgin pussy pink and wet and begging for my cock.
"Fuck," I groan, stroking faster.
I imagine grabbing her hips, positioning my cock at her entrance, hearing her whimper as I push inside. She'd be so tight. So fucking tight around my dick, her walls clenching, her body stretching to accommodate me.
I'd make her take every inch. Make her feel how deep I could go. Make her scream my name while I fucked her so hard she'd forget she ever wore a badge.
My hand moves faster, rougher. I imagine flipping her over, spreading those thick thighs, burying my face in her pussy. She'd taste sweet. I know she would. And I'd lick every drop of her arousal, tongue-fuck that virgin cunt until she came on my face.
Then I'd slide my cock inside while she was still trembling, still sensitive, and fuck her through another orgasm. And another. Until she was limp and satisfied and completely mine.
"Fuck, Amanda," I groan, my orgasm building. I imagine her tits bouncing while I pound into her, her hands clawing at my back, her pussy clenching around my cock as she comes.
My release hits hard, cum spurting over my hand and into the sink. I stroke through it, milking every drop, her name on my lips.
When I finally catch my breath, reality crashes back. I just jerked off thinking about a cop. A virgin cop who I promised to help tomorrow. A woman who represents everything I've spent two years hating.
And I can't fucking wait to see her again.
Next Day
Nine AM the next morning finds me outside the Blackwater Falls Police Station, sitting on my bike in the parking lot. My heart pounds against my ribs, part anticipation, part dread.
I told King I'd do this. Told Amanda I'd be here. But walking into a police station voluntarily goes against every instinct I've developed since my brother's death.
Fuck the police. That's been my mantra for years. And now I'm about to walk inside and help one.
A car pulls into the lot, Amanda's modest sedan. My cock immediately hardens as she gets out, and Jesus fucking Christ, she actually wore a skirt.
It's modest. It falls to just above her knees, black and professional, but on her curves it looks sinful.
The fabric hugs her hips, emphasizes that ass, shows off those thick thighs that I want wrapped around my head.
She's paired it with a white blouse that strains slightly across her tits, and her black hair is pulled back in a ponytail.
She looks like every dirty secretary fantasy I've ever had, and it takes everything in me not to march over there, bend her over the hood of her car, yank that skirt up, and bury my face in her pussy.
I adjust myself in my jeans and get off the bike, heading toward her. She sees me and stops, her green eyes widening slightly. Good. She remembers what I said. Remembers that I told her to wear a skirt.
"Officer Collins." I let my eyes travel slowly down her body, making sure she sees me looking. "You followed orders."
"It's not—I just—" She stammers, her face flushing. "I was going to wear a skirt anyway."
"Sure you were." I move closer, crowding her against her car just like yesterday. "You wore it because I told you to. Because part of you wants to please me, even though you hate that you do."
"That's not—"
"Your nipples are hard." I glance down at her chest, where the evidence is clear through the thin blouse. "And I bet if I slid my hand up that skirt right now, I'd find those panties soaked. Wouldn't I?"
She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. "We're in a police parking lot."
"I know where we are." My hand finds her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Doesn't change the fact that you're wet for me. That you've been thinking about what I said yesterday. About me bending you over and making you scream."
"Rookie—"
"Danny." The word comes out rougher than I intend. "My real name is Danny. When I fuck you, I want to hear my real name on your lips."
Her breath catches. "Danny."
The sound of my name in her voice, breathy and desperate, almost breaks my control. I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear.
"After I give this statement, you're coming home with me. Understand?"
"I—I have work—"
"Call in sick." My hand slides up her side, stopping just below her breast. "Because once I get you alone, I'm not letting you go until I've had my fill. Until I've tasted every inch of this body. Until that virgin pussy is stretched around my cock and you're begging me to make you come."
She whimpers, and I feel her body tremble against mine.
"Is that a yes, officer?"
"Yes," she breathes.
"Good girl. Now let's get this over with so I can take you home and fuck you properly."
I step back, giving her space to recover. Her face is flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and I can see the outline of her hard nipples through her blouse. She looks thoroughly debauched and I haven't even touched her properly yet.
"You ready?" I ask, gesturing toward the station.
"Yes." She straightens her blouse, trying to compose herself. "Thank you for coming. For doing this."
"Don't thank me yet." I start walking toward the entrance. "You're about to see exactly how much cops hate bikers who tell the truth."
The station is exactly what I expected. Sterile, cold, smelling like coffee and old paperwork. A sergeant sits behind the front desk, his expression souring when he sees me.
"Can I help you?" His tone says he'd rather do anything else.
"He’s Rookie," Amanda says, stepping forward. "He's here to give a statement about the incident with Officer Hayes."
The sergeant's eyes flick between us. "Right. Chief Morrison is expecting you. Follow me."
We're led through the bullpen, past desks where cops stop to stare. I meet each gaze with cold indifference, letting them see I'm not intimidated. Let them look at my leather vest, my bruised knuckles, my complete lack of respect for their authority.
The sergeant stops at an office door and knocks. "Chief? Collins and the witness are here."
"Send them in." The voice from inside is gruff, tired.
We enter to find Chief Morrison behind his desk. Officer Hayes stands beside the desk, his split lip barely healed, a smug expression on his face.
My hands curl into fists at the sight of him. This is the piece of shit who put his hands on Amanda. Who threatened her. Who probably would have done worse if I hadn't intervened.
"Mr. Wells." Morrison gestures to a chair. "Have a seat."
"I'll stand." I cross my arms over my chest.
Morrison's jaw tightens. "This will go faster if you cooperate."
"I am cooperating. I'm here, aren't I?" I glance at Hayes. "More than I can say for your officer, who couldn't keep his hands to himself."
Hayes's face flushes red. "That's a lie—"
"Enough." Morrison holds up a hand. "Mr. Wells, tell me exactly what you witnessed yesterday morning."
I take a breath and launch into it. Every detail. How I saw the patrol car pull into the alley. How Hayes grabbed Amanda. How she tried to pull away. How Hayes threatened her, told her no one would believe her.
"Then what happened?" Morrison asks, his expression unreadable.
"I intervened. Told him to get his hands off her." I meet Hayes's eyes. "He reached for his weapon. So, I punched him."
"He assaulted me!" Hayes explodes. "Unprovoked assault on a police officer—"
"Provoked," I correct coldly. "You were assaulting your partner. I stopped you. That's called defending someone who couldn't defend themselves."
"That's called assault," Hayes snarls.
"Then arrest me." I spread my arms wide. "Go ahead. Charge me. See what happens when we go to court and I tell a jury exactly what you were doing to Officer Collins."
The room goes silent. Morrison stares at me, something shifting in his expression. Hayes looks like he wants to kill me.
"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" Morrison asks finally.
"Yeah." I lean forward, planting my hands on his desk. "Your officer is a predator. He uses his badge to assault women. And if you let him get away with it, you're just as guilty as he is."
Morrison's expression hardens. "That's a serious accusation."
"It's the truth." I straighten. "Now if we're done here, I've got better things to do than stand in a police station."
"We're done." Morrison's voice is tight. "For now. Don't leave town, Mr. Wells. We may have follow-up questions."
"No follow-up." I head for the door. "I told you what I saw. One statement, that's it."
I walk out before he can argue, Amanda hurrying after me. We don't speak until we're outside, away from listening ears.
"That went well," she says quietly.
"No, it didn't." I turn to face her. "Morrison doesn't believe me. Hayes is going to walk. And you're still going to lose your job."
"You don't know that—"
"I do." I cup her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. "But I kept my promise. I told the truth. Now it's time for you to keep yours."
Her eyes widen. "What promise?"
"You're coming home with me." I lean in close. "And I'm going to fuck you until you forget all about this shitstorm. Until the only thing you can think about is my cock inside you."
She should say no. Should pull away. Should remember she's a cop and I'm a criminal and this is the worst possible idea.
Instead, she nods. "Okay."
Best. Worst. Decision. Ever.