Misadventures in Blue Page 5

  My high heels make it difficult to rise and press to get the friction I want, and Jace knows it, using my inability to move to tease me, to edge me along the brink until I think I might go mad.

  “I don’t care,” I pant. “I’m using birth control. I’m clean. Fuck me bare.”

  He pulls back enough to catch my eyes, and the raw lust there is enough to make my knees buckle. “Cat.”

  “Are you clean, Jace? Say you are. Say you’ll stick that beautiful cock inside me. Say you’ll do it now.”

  “I’m clean.”

  I nearly faint in relief.

  “If I do this, I’m going to come inside you,” he warns. His fingers stroke inside my cunt to underscore his words. “Going to make that pussy mine. Got it?”

  “Oh God, yes, please, please do that.” I’m dangerously close to babbling now, my hands still twisting in his collar.

  He gives me a nod. “And you have to be quiet,” he says, his free hand unbuckling his duty belt. “Can you do that?”

  “I’d like to promise that I can?” I offer, and for the first time in our acquaintance, I see his mouth hitch up in a smile. It kicks the breath right out of my lungs, he’s so handsome.

  He slides his fingers free and says, “Open.” And then my mouth is filled with his fingers—which taste like me. It’s so filthy, I can’t stand it.

  “Keep your legs spread for my cock,” he rumbles, and I obey.

  Chapter Six

  Jace

  I’m about to fuck Catherine Day in the investigations station.

  More than that, I’m about to fuck her surrounded by boxes of evidence for the case we should be working on, with my new supervisor down the hallway, in broad fucking daylight, and I don’t care.

  In my defense, I didn’t stand a damn chance after she murmured those magic words.

  I want to get fucked again.

  Although it’s possible I didn’t ever stand a chance. Not after catching her staring at my ass in that obscene way of hers. Not after seeing her beautiful and polished, sitting in her cubicle. Maybe not even after last night.

  One hit and I’m a goner. Cat Day: gateway drug. Except she’s a gateway drug to more of her. She’s got me craving and trembling for just one more taste. Just one more touch.

  Running me extra ragged is the slow unraveling of her own self-control—all that equilibrium and poise vanishing under my lips, my fingers. Seeing my scent drive her wild, feeling my jealousy get her wet. Her plea for us to fuck bare.

  There’s a good reason I don’t pack condoms in my badge wallet or uniform pockets, and it’s because it’s against policy to fuck on duty. And when I say against policy, I mean I’ll be outside on my ass so fast I won’t even have time to put on my sunglasses.

  But I don’t even care right now, because right now? With my fingers in Cat’s mouth and her eyes burning aqua against mine?

  It would be worth it.

  It only takes one hand to unbuckle the duty belt and only a moment to pop off the keepers and drop it to the ground. I don’t bother pulling the underbelt free—I unfasten it to expose my pants button, and then I’m able to unzip.

  Cat makes a noise around my fingers—a sort of whine that communicates one thing: hurry.

  My cock is so eager to be free that it nearly slaps up against my abs after I tug down the waistband of my boxers. And I can already feel the cool kiss of air along my tip, telling me I have pre-come beading there. After that, it’s just some pragmatic rearranging of fabric to make sure my cock is unimpeded and her panties are shoved well free.

  “Shh,” I tell her and remove my fingers from her mouth. I need both hands to do this: a hand for grabbing one stocking-covered thigh to hike to my hip and the other to stir my head around her opening.

  But she can’t shh, at least not very well. The minute the hot, taut skin of my crown kisses along her pussy, she lets out a noise that has me ready to blow—and would also let anyone walking by know what we are doing.

  A quick time-out then. I drop her leg, and amid a whine of protest at the lack of contact between us, I unclip her garters and pull down and remove her panties.

  And then I put them in her mouth.

  Not a lot—not enough to truly gag her or make her uncomfortable—but enough that she has to work to keep them in place. Enough that she’ll be reminded to stay silent, because we can’t get caught.

  Not only do I not want to get fired, but if I manage to get one of the best detectives in the metro fired because I couldn’t keep it in my pants? I’m never going to not hate myself.

  So it’s panties and silence for now.

  Her eyes are wide and wondering on mine as I trace a finger around her perfect mouth. The lace spilling out of it only highlights the smoothness of her lips, the natural, lipstick-free pink of them.

  “That’s better,” I say quietly. “Can’t have you getting caught, can we? Can’t have you trying to explain why you needed my cock so badly you couldn’t wait.”

  She closes her eyes and nods, and I use the moment to bring her leg back to my hip again. With her opened up and her mouth full, I can now freely nudge at the entrance waiting for me without worrying about her pleasured noises bringing the entire investigations unit running in.

  She’s hot and slick, and shudders race up and down my spine as I find the little opening all tucked away in her wet folds and forge in. I’ve never felt this—never—not even as a dumbass teenager or when I thought I was going to marry Brittany. Never had my bare cock surrounded by a hot pussy, skin to skin, with nothing in between. It’s impossible to describe, impossible even to process, and I make an unholy grunt as I finally reach home.

  Cat makes a noise around her panties, and I look into her wide, surprised eyes. She looks down at where we’re joined, past my rucked-up uniform shirt and her crumpled skirt to where only a glimpse of my thick shaft is visible before it disappears inside her.

  She makes the noise again, and I realize she’s saying oh.

  Yeah. Oh.

  “Shit, Cat,” I whisper, feeling undone, vulnerable with the sheer experience of taking her like this. “How the fuck did I walk away from you last night?”

  I emphasize my point with a thrust, testing the angle and the pressure of us like this. “How did I not stay and fuck and fuck and fuck until neither of us could walk?”

  Her eyes flutter closed in that way I’m learning means she’s aroused beyond belief, and I reward her with another slide—this one with a little grind against her clit at the end. Her supporting leg nearly buckles, and she grabs on to my shoulders for balance, her manicured fingernails digging in through my shirt as I start truly pounding into her.

  Even in her sexy-as-fuck heels, the mismatch in our heights make the angle a little rough, a little desperate. I have to bend my knees and palm her ass to hitch her higher against me, and she finally wraps her other leg around my waist and locks her heels at the small of my back, now fully pinned against the wall by my cock and the force of our need.

  It’s grinding and wet and messy. She clings to me, carrying most of her weight with her clenched thighs and her arms braced on my shoulders, but I have to keep her pressed against the wall for balance. Which keeps the swollen bead of her clit tight against me, keeps it rubbed and squeezed and all the good stuff that makes her writhe and quake and pant around the lace in her mouth.

  It’s the lace I watch as I fuck her, focusing on the delicate clovers and whorls of the fabric. On the glimpses of full pink lips underneath, of pinker tongue and white teeth. At first, I do it to distract myself from the insane feeling of her pussy around my cock and that shapely ass cradled in my palms, but then it becomes its own torture. Her perfect mouth, tempting in its lush elegance, crammed full of my homemade gag. And she let me—she just let me—as if I had every right to gag her. Every right to do whatever I want.

  I curl in, snag her earlobe with my teeth. “Get there, Cat,” I grate out. “You feel too good, and you have to get there because I can�
�t last.”

  She nods, and the movement brushes her panties across my polyester uniform shirt with a gentle rasp that drives me wild. I have to close my eyes and conjure up memories of crawling through frozen mud at boot camp and eating rubbery DFAC food to stave off the knot of orgasm that’s currently pulling tight at the base of my cock. I can’t come yet…I can’t come yet…her first…I can’t come yet—

  Cat manages to find a new way to bear down onto me that gives her clit even more attention. We’re toiling hard, the both of us, sweat misting damp across our skin and breathing fast, short, feverish breaths, and I see the moment our labor pays off. The moment she finally catches hold of her release, and with a whimper, she drops her head onto my shoulder and quivers around my cock. Big, rolling quivers that clench down at the tip of me buried somewhere deep inside her.

  She’s mumbling something around her panties as she rides out her orgasm, the same thing over and over again, and it takes me a few times hearing it to realize it’s my name. It’s my fucking name.

  Jace jace jace oh god jace—

  My orgasm slams into me so hard that I want to roar with the sheer ecstasy of it, the primal victory of pumping my come deep into a woman and giving her everything I have, every last fucking drop.

  It’s messy, so much messier than usual, and as I keep fucking her through the hot slick of my own seed, I remember that it’s because there’s no condom to keep our bodies separate, no barrier to contain the biological result of thrusting, pumping pleasure.

  It’s just my come and the wet evidence of her orgasm, mixing hot and perfect around us, and feeling it drives my climax on and on and on. I ejaculate with brutal, seemingly never-ending throbs, each pulse like a jolt of pure heaven sizzling straight through me, and for a moment, I feel more naked than my still-clothed situation should permit. Like Cat can see more than just my face or my bare cock but something inside me. Like she can see me in a way no one ever has before.

  It freaks me the fuck out—but maybe not as much as it should.

  Maybe I want her to see me because I want her. Period. Everything about her I want, and I want more of it, and I want more of it for a long time.

  When I set her carefully on her feet and slide out, come drips out of her, and one slow drop lands on the toe of her red high heel.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, I might need to come again,” I say as I watch it happen.

  Cat just gives a little croon in response, yanks out her makeshift gag, and then uses the panties to clean off the inside of her thighs.

  I groan again. “Fuck, now I really need to.”

  She looks up with some amusement and then back down at my cock, which is already stiffening, ready for round two.

  “Young man,” she purrs.

  I have no doubt she could keep up with me, though, given the way she’s biting her lip and eyeing my erection right now. If we were at her place or mine—if we were anywhere else—we could go as many rounds as we needed to scratch the itch. As it is, I’m almost considering asking her for another—just one more, just real fast—because I’m not satisfied, not satisfied at all.

  She’s still all rumpled and flushed, and that pussy is still exposed and taunting me with its silky blond curls and swollen, florid petals, and I just need one more time, one more fuck. Then I can start thinking straight again.

  Cat’s cell phone rings from the floor where she dropped it earlier, and as she bends down to get it, I hear a voice from outside the door. Two voices.

  Shit.

  The look of alarm I shoot Cat is reflected right back at me, and she ignores the phone in favor of setting herself to rights as quickly as possible. She doesn’t bother fastening her garter—simply yanks down her skirt, smooths her shirt, and digs in her portfolio for a small elastic hair tie. She pulls her mussed hair into a ponytail as I zip up and manage to get my duty belt on with some degree of quietude, although the keepers I have to shove into my pockets because I don’t have enough time to fasten them on. I shove her panties in my pocket too, unlock the door, and flick on the light.

  Within seconds of us getting seated at the table, there’s a casual knock and then the door pops open.

  “Hey,” Sergeant Hougland says. The door opens more, and he’s with—aw, fuck—he’s with Captain Kim.

  I see Cat swallow in the corner of my vision.

  But both administrators seem unsuspecting and oblivious as they come in, and they don’t seem to pick up on Cat’s pink cheeks or the smell of sex in the room.

  Not that I can relax any. I just had delicious, wet, unprotected sex in a police station. Sex that is still all over my skin and probably my clothes too, and now my new supervisors are strolling in for a chat. I hold myself as rigid and as detached as I can manage, hoping it’s not obvious that I was a rutting, eager beast just a few minutes ago.

  “Day, we’re just swinging by on our way out to a meeting to see if you got that report I sent over from KCPD.”

  Cat nods, folding her hands over her crossed legs, looking every bit the untouchable ice queen she’s rumored to be. Except between those crossed legs is a cunt that’s currently leaving a wet spot on that dry-clean-only skirt.

  I feel a jerk of primitive satisfaction at the thought.

  “I did,” she says crisply. “It was a report full of nothing, which I expected.”

  “No leads on their end?”

  “No leads,” she affirms. “Same as what KCKPD and the other Johnson County agencies said. The televisions aren’t being sold in the area, if they’re being sold at all. It’s like they’re being stolen and hoarded.”

  “That’s not the usual way of things.” Hougland sighs, as if personally put out that these criminals aren’t following the template. “You think they’re planning on selling them in one big shipment?”

  “It would be foolish,” Cat says and lifts a shoulder in a graceful shrug. “But I suppose we can’t rule anything out. I’m pulling together a list of plates that have hit plate readers mounted on traffic lights near the burglarized offices. Any duplicate hits—especially in the hours before and after the burglary—I’m going to follow up on. I suppose a next step could be seeing if any of those car owners have made payments for a storage unit in the metro. We might find our televisions there.”

  Hougland and Kim are nodding. “When it’s warrant time, loop me in,” Hougland says. “I want to look it over before we submit it to a judge.”

  “Of course,” Cat says coolly, and then Kim and Hougland ramble on a bit more about this and that before one of them glances at the clock on the wall and gives a theatrical sigh.

  “It’s time to head out. Great work, Catherine,” Kim says, and they finally leave.

  When the door closes, I look across the table at Cat and see a peculiar tightness around her mouth. If I had to guess, I’d say she looks pissed, but on Cat, it’s hard to guess at any emotion because she’s constantly wearing this forbidding, almost haughty shell.

  “Hougland tick you off?” I hazard.

  She looks back at me with some surprise and then gives a reluctant, sly grin. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Nothing about you is obvious,” I say, and I mean it. “But I’m determined to learn every single thing about you. Including how you feel and what you hide.”

  Her lips part, ever so slightly, and she shakes her head. “I keep thinking I know the box to put you in, and then you keep surprising me…”

  I’m dying to know what box she wants to put me in, but she continues.

  “Yes, Hougland has been frustrating to deal with. He just transferred into investigations last month, after I’d been put on the robberies. He’s old and a man, and he has old-man ideas about what I’m capable of. He’s been micromanaging the hell out of this case, and me, and I don’t deserve that.”

  I love how unapologetically she talks about this. How fearlessly she calls out Hougland on his bullshit.

  I don’t know what she sees in my face just now, but she raises an eyebrow.
“I have pride too, you know,” she says. “Cop pride is not exclusive to people with penises.”

  “That’s not what I was thinking.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “That I’d like to have a few rounds in the ring with Hougland until he started treating you with respect.”

  This seems to please her—fine little lines bracket the corners of her full mouth and spread out from her eyes. “Young man,” she says again, but this time she says it with fondness. With affection.

  I don’t realize how long our gazes are locked in this sort of baffled, lustful fascination with each other until she clears her throat and looks down.

  “Jace, about today,” she begins, and my stomach sinks. I know that tone of voice. I know it because I’m usually the one to use it. Usually the one to tell someone I just fucked that it’s been a great time and now I’ll get them an Uber.

  I don’t help her along with this because I don’t want it. I know I almost got her fired just now by screwing her in her own police station. I know this is nuts, but dammit—I don’t care.

  “You know what I’m going to say,” she says tactfully, gently. “I am…rather charmed by you, but I think you also charm me out of all reason. And it doesn’t make sense anyway.”

  “What doesn’t make sense?” I genuinely don’t understand. I find her wildly sexy, wildly intelligent, and I want to fuck her every chance I get from now until…well, I don’t know until when, but for a good long time. What else does there need to be?

  Her eyelashes sweep down in a dark fan over her cheeks as she chooses her words carefully. “Me and another cop. I haven’t dated another cop since Frazer, and I shouldn’t start now.”

  “Why?” The word is out of my mouth before I can really process that she just brought up her dead fiancé and that I should proceed with diplomacy.

  She’s still looking down as she thinks. “What happened when he died—I can’t live through that again. I barely survived it the first time.” She meets my gaze again, and I’m nearly rocked back by the emotion simmering in her blue-green eyes. “I know what they say about me. That I’m incapable of grief or love or any feeling at all. The Ice Queen. The truth is I wanted to die with Frazer that night, and a part of me did. And what’s left won’t survive if it happens again.”