Page 16 of Beauty and the Cop
I wrap my fist around my cock, squeezing.
Even from across the street, I can see the outline of her bra and her hard little nipples. I want them between my teeth while her nails are in my back.
I bet she'd sound so sweet, moaning my name and begging for me to fuck her harder.
"Fuck," I growl, working my fist up and down my shaft, my eyes locked on her through the window. Her tits jiggle as she scrubs the hood of her car, singing along to something on the radio. Every so often, she shakes her ass to the beat, her hips swaying in a way that should be criminal.
She's so effortlessly sexy. It blows my mind that she doesn't even realize it. She just thinks she's this country bumpkin, fumbling her way through life in the big city for the first time. In reality, she's a fucking goddess. I'm sure there are men all over this city ready to fall at her feet just to know her name.
It's the way she carries herself. It's the way she smiles as if she knows a secret no one else knows. It's the way she's always so fuckinghappy. It doesn't matter what's going on or how bad herday is, she's just happy to be alive. There's something beautiful and a little bit wild about that.
I can't get enough of it.
"Christ," I groan, spitting into my palm before wrapping my hand around my dick again. This time, I imagine her catching me. I imagine standing in front of the window, letting her watch.
Would she know she's the reason I'm this fucking hard?
Would she whimper and press those thick thighs together, imagining me between them?
Sometimes, I let myself believe she wants me. Like last night when she had dinner with me. She kept stealing glances at me, as if she couldn't stop herself. I let myself pretend it was because she's as wild for me as I am for her. I let myself imagine picking her curvy ass up and placing her on my lap.
I jerked off twice when I got home last night. Clearly, it didn't help. I'm just as hard and desperate now as I was then. I'malwayshard and desperate for her. The more time I spend with her, the worse it gets.
She's becoming an obsession, one I can't—and don't want—to shake.
"Goddamn, Dimples," I groan, fucking my fist hard as she turns her carwash into an impromptu dance session, her shirt clinging to her tits, her thighs jiggling. She shakes her ass, and a bead of sweat rolls between my shoulder blades.
Her name rips from my lips in a loud crack of sound.
She glances over her shoulder at my place. There's no fucking way she sees me. There's no way she heard me. But for a minute, our eyes lock through the window.
I come so hard I can't breathe. Cum spills across my fingers, and onto my thighs. My heart pounds like a war drum. She holds my gaze the whole time, like she knows what's happening. Like she's right there with me.
I don't even bother cleaning myself up before wrapping my fist around my still hard cock, starting all over again.
It's the only solution if I'm having dinner with her again tonight.
At least, it's the only one that won't end with her kicking my ass out of her house and refusing to ever let me over the threshold ever again.
Somehow, I have to make this girl mine.
Chapter Six
Elsie
Living across from Noahis turning me into a mad baker. The smell of cookies and freshly baked bread permanently lingers in my kitchen now because I can't stop making him stuff.
I couldn't even button my favorite jeans this morning.
Clearly, I need an intervention.
Does that stop me from starting a batch of chocolate chip cookies as soon as I sail through the door after work? No. Do I regret it? Also no. Baking for him means watching him eat what I've baked. And watching him eat what I've baked means listening to himmoanwhen he does it.
I'm fueling my own sexual fantasies here.
I have no regrets. Well, aside from my expanding waistline, but that doesn't even count because he consumes most of the calories, and I enjoy the show.
Honestly, it's a win-win.
