ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance Page 9

  Cory is the first to break the kiss. He brushes my hair aside and bites my tender flesh of my neck. The tingle that soars through my body pulls a moan from my lips.

  He moves forward, forcing me to back up until the back of my knees hit my bed. Anticipation sings through my fevered body. I want to plead but I know that won’t make him go any faster.

  “Don’t. We can’t,” I say and his eyes meet mine, fierce and demanding.

  “I know you want it. I can smell you. Your pussy is so wet I’m going to be able to slip in there so easy. Dirty girls need their punishment. And you’re going to take yours like a good girl.”

  A grin appears and my heart races. It’s what I wanted to see that night by the side of the road. He’d tried so hard to hide it from me, but he isn’t hiding now.

  I see him.

  It’s a strange realization. He needs to be in control as much as I need to be controlled. I wonder what’s behind his proclivity. Is it something from his childhood, too? I want to know everything. I want to see inside his mind and his heart and have him know me the same way.

  With his body against mine, he lowers me to the mattress trapping my handcuffed hands under me. The knot of my t-shirt pushes into my back and I wriggle to get more comfortable.

  Lust fuels him as he starts at my ankles, dropping kisses as he moves up my body. With a feather-light touch, he caresses the trail his lips took. In places, it tickles, and I jerk away. In other places, it sets me on fire,

  When he reaches my pussy I hold my breath. His soft breath on my folds makes my clit pulse. Deft fingers part my lips exposing my private place to him. I blush so hard, knowing he’s seeing me, smelling me, about to taste me. When his tongue flicks over my sensitive clit I gasp and raise my hips.

  Cory darts his tongue over and over in short fast strokes. It feels so amazing that I moan and arch into his mouth. If my hands were free I’d clutch him to my pussy and grind on his face until I came. All the longing and pleasure has coiled up inside me.

  His tongue changes to circling my clit, barely touching it but trailing lightly around and around. He gets achingly close to the sweet spot but doesn’t touch it. I arch, swivel my hips, anything to get him to flick my clit again.

  He chuckles and pulls back, finger stroking the same path his tongue took, just enough to make me writhe but not enough to make me come.

  “You want it?” he asks with amusement.

  I shake my head. “NO.”

  Cory laughs. “I know you’re lying.” His finger follows my labia downwards and rests at the entrance to my pussy. I swear, it actually clenches as though it wants to draw him inside my body. Kitty’s hungry and she knows what she wants.

  He doesn’t give it to her.

  Instead, he crawls up my body until he’s looming over me, face so close to mine that we are breathing the same air. I feel his cock dangling at the entrance to my pussy. So close but still a tease.

  “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” His eyes are cold like they were at the traffic stop. He’s keeping himself remote from this, trying to maintain his hold over his emotions and physical reactions.

  I shake my head and look at the wall. He wants me to beg but I won’t.

  “Tell me,” he orders, gripping my jaw in his huge hand and holding me so I can’t look away.

  “I don’t want you,” I say angrily. This is all part of the game but it feels real now. I’m frustrated and he’s making me wait for my pleasure.

  “Liar.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You will, baby. Don’t worry. Unless you really mean it. Do you really mean it, Allyson? Do you want to say the safe word?”

  I look up into his stone cold eyes and want to bite him. I want him to feel pain. I want him to hurt as much as I do right now. I could say ‘officer’ and all this would be over. I could relieve myself. My trusty vibrator is currently stashed in the drawer next to the bed. I could send him on his way with a rock hard dick and a few choice words burning his ears. But I won’t because as much as I hate his teasing, I also love it.

  “Fuck me,” I say loudly. “Just do it. Stick it inside me and make me come.”

  They’re not the begging words he was so obviously looking for but they seem to do the job. Maybe he feels as frenzied as me and can’t wait any longer.

  He clasps a nipple with his mouth again, grazing the puckered peak with his teeth. Pain and sizzling pleasure spike through me.

  He reaches over to the nightstand and finds a condom in his wallet. It takes him seconds to sheath himself and then, with him looking into my eyes, he reaches between us and guides his cock inside me. The questioning look isn’t something I expected to see in his expression. It’s as though he needs to make sure I’m still with him even though I haven’t used the safe word. Maybe he’s had a bad experience in the past. Maybe it’s because he’s a cop and he’s dealt with victims of sexual assault. I give him another small nod.

  “Don’t,” I whisper. “Please,”

  He plunges into me again with a groan. My pussy grips him as he rams harder, pushing with every thrust until he’s balls deep and our hips are mashed together painfully. A tingling sensation has already started in my stomach and moves down my body. My clit pulses with each thrust into me. He plunges deeper, pushing me into the mattress, jiggling my breasts. His balls slap against me with every stroke, the sound creating a rhythmic smacking sound that fuels my desire.

  Unable to wrap my arms around him to pull him closer I arch into his thrusts to pull him in deeper. He pumps faster, gathering me in his arms, holding me tightly. Low moans from deep in his throat send my desire over the edge. I moan and raise my hips to match his rhythm. The gathering sensation in my clit pushes me so close to orgasm that I’m desperate to come.

  The pressure building in my core winds tighter and tighter and I can’t hold it in anymore.

  I beg him. “Please.”

  His fingers dig into my skin, arms drawing so tight I feel like I can’t get a breath. With one hard, deep final thrust, Cory makes me come. My orgasm crashes through me, my legs twitch, my clit throbs. Inside me, his cock jerks and I feel it pulsing with his own release. My pussy grips him tighter with each twitch of my orgasm and he groans, clutching me against his chest until his length stops jerking inside me.

  Cory’s breathing fast and I can feel his heart racing against mine. I wait for him to say something but he doesn’t. I hope he’ll kiss me but he doesn’t do that either. Instead, he rolls off me and the sudden withdrawal of his body heat makes me shiver. Exhausted and a bit confused, I watch him go into the bathroom and I hear the water running. The sun is starting to rise outside casting thin streams of brightness through the cracks in my curtains. When Cory returns it’s with a washcloth and a towel in his hands. He rubs the washcloth over my pussy then dries me off with the towel. Then he retrieves the handcuff keys from the nightstand drawer, helps me to sit up and unlocks my restraints. I roll my shoulders to ease the tight muscles there.

  We’re so quiet now and it feels strange; uncomfortable even. Does he regret what we did? Does he feel guilty?

  Cory reaches for the hand lotion I have on my nightstand and, with great care, he rubs in cooling lotion on the red marks around my wrists. The lotion soothes the pain and his tender touch soothes the ache in my heart. He’s caring for me. He might not know what to say but I understand that. Sometimes sex is so powerful it can make you reassess how you feel about more than the act itself. He lifts my hand to his mouth and brushes light kisses on my wrists.

  My stomach flutters at the tenderness of his actions, and the look in his eyes when I finally pluck up the courage to meet his gaze.

  I want to talk to him, to tell him how much I enjoyed what we did and ask him how he feels. I want to kiss his beautiful lips and put a smile on them once more.

  But I don’t get the chance because my cell phone jingles in my purse.

  “Sorry, I should get that.”

  Cory picks
up my purse from the floor beside the bed and holds it in front of me. I reach in and find my phone then swipe to answer the call.

  “Hi, mom.” Trust her to pick this exact moment to call me for an early morning chat.

  “Allyson! So glad I caught you before classes. Wedding plans are overwhelming me. I need to find out when you’ll be free to go dress shopping.”

  “I’ll check my schedule and give you a call back this afternoon.”

  “That’s great. Don’t forget. There’s so much to do. You’ll need a fabulous dress. We’ll get Cory a matching tie. It’ll be so nice that we’ll all be a family soon.”

  I cringe at the word family. That was exactly the word I didn’t need to hear right now. I peer up at Cory, who is currently worrying the skin of his cuticle with his nail. He must be able to hear the conversation. We’re sitting so close and mom’s voice reaches pitches that could break a glass when she’s excited. Guilt sweeps over me.

  We slept together. I just fucked my stepbrother-to-be. Not just that but I let him cuff me and play out a scene that was hotter than any I’ve had before.

  My future stepbrother knows what I taste like between my legs. “I won’t forget. I’ll call you back. I have to dash now. Love you.”

  My mother barely gets out her reciprocal “love you too” when I hit the end button. I look to the side and Cory doesn’t meet my gaze. I can’t read his cop face. It’s set in neutral to pissed off, or at least that’s how I interpret his expression. I feel as though I’m back in that moment when he found the cuffs, torn between embarrassment and longing. All I want to do is curl up in his lap and go to sleep. I’m so tired, physically and emotionally.

  But I can’t bear to hear the words that might be on the tip of his tongue. That we made a mistake. That he needs to go and we should forget this ever happened. I can’t think about the lies I told him and the disaster that’s waiting for me if Drew carries out his threats. I’m on the verge of tears when I jump off the bed and scramble into my clothes.

  “We made a mistake. This shouldn’t have happened,” I say.

  I risk a peek at him, seeing hurt and anger flash in his eyes. Oh god, is he hurt? Am I the one making a mistake right now.

  Cory pulls on his clothes with short jerking motions, finally reaching to collect his belt from the nightstand. I expect him to say something. There are so many words I could say now; I’m sorry, being the most important ones, but I can’t seem to get them out. I stand with my eyes trained on the floor until the door slams, making me jump.

  I put my face in my palms and find they smell of him. Between my legs, I can feel him as though he was still inside me. My dorm room feels emptier than it ever has, and in a way, so does my heart.

  I feel so terrible for leading him down a path and then cutting him off.

  How will I face him again?

  12

  ALLYSON

  After hours of trying on dresses, my feet protest making another step. Thankfully the dress shop has a plush bench in front of the dressing rooms. I plop down and flick off my shoes, sighing with relief as the pressure eases from my heels and toes. I flex my feet and settle back to wait for my mom to emerge.

  The door to the dressing room opens and my mom steps through looking stunning in an off-white gown that makes her look at least five years younger. Her face beams as she walks and turns around for me. I’m off my feet in a flash, aching arches be damned, and envelop her in a hug.

  “You look amazing!” I say. “Jeff will love it.”

  She smooths her hands down the front over the beading. “Do you think so?”

  I turn her around and we look at her in the mirror. “I know so. Look how awesome you look.”

  “Time to buy it then!”

  She smiles and I kiss her cheek before she hurries into the change room to takes the dress off and comes back out with it slung over her arm. The woman assisting us suddenly appears, her wide smile revealing perfectly white teeth.

  “How was that for you?” the woman asks, smiling hopefully.

  “I’ll take it. Now we need a maid of honor dress for my daughter,” my mom says gesturing to me.

  The woman eyes me up and down, presumably assessing my size, then looks at my mother. “Desired colors?”

  “A nice pink perhaps.”

  Thankful she didn’t say red, I smile and with my arm around her shoulders squeeze one more time. I’m so happy for her. The way she glows all the time is a testament to how happy Jeff makes her. Thinking about Jeff makes me think about Cory. How is it possible to feel such a terrible sinking feeling in your stomach and a flutter in your heart at the same time?

  The clerk returns a few minutes later with an array of pink dresses draped over her arms. Short ones, long ones, in varying degrees of pinkness. The hot pink colored one snags my attention first so when she hangs them up in the dressing room my mom has just used I pull that one off the hanger first and close the door.

  “How does it look?” my mom asks.

  I slip on the satiny material, enjoying the caress of the smooth fabric along my arms. The dress hugs my body in all the right places and I can still breathe even when I do the zipper up. The clerk has an eye for sizing a customer up. Literally.

  I twirl in front of the mirror. The dress is long and pretty streamlined. There is no flare of the skirt when I turn. I can tell it will just tap my heels as I walk but not float around my ankles.

  “It’s a nice color,” I say. “What color are the bridesmaid’s dresses going to be?”

  “If we go with a hot pink for yours I was thinking a lighter pink for them. Or maybe a nice green.”

  I open the door so my mom can see the dress.

  “What do you think?”

  She smiles. “It looks lovely on you. How do you feel about it?”

  “I like it.”

  “Try on some of the others. I have her looking for blue just in case the pink doesn’t work out.”

  I retreat back into the change room and take off the dress. I put it in a pile I mentally label maybe. Next up is another long dress but this one is a lighter shade of pink. I pull that one on and turn to see how it looks from the back. It looks nice too but I’m not sure about the style. Of course, it’s my mom’s wedding so I’ll wear whatever she tells me to wear.

  “How is the next one?” she asks through the change room door.

  “It’s nice too.”

  “Come out so I can see. Your phone keeps buzzing in your purse, sweetie.”

  “Like ringing buzzing?” I ask.

  “No, just every once in a while it will buzz.”

  Notifications. Not sure what the notifications would be for since I haven’t posted to social media in a while. I decide to check the phone in a minute. First, I need to finish off the pink dresses before she changes to another color scheme.

  I come out of the dressing room again and twirl.

  “That one is nice,” she says but her brow furrows.

  “You hate it,” I say.

  “I don’t hate it. I don’t think it looks as good on you as the last one.”

  “You’re the bride. No one will be paying attention to me.”

  “Of course, they will. And I want you to be happy with the dress you’re wearing. I’m your mother. I’m not going to have you wear something hideous.”

  I grin and hurry back into the change room. We go through the rest of the dresses and so far the first one is winning.

  The clerk hangs up a bunch of blue gowns and takes the discards of the pink pile away. I try on a bunch of the blue dresses, parading in front of mom to see which one she likes best. She frowns.

  “I still like the first pink one you tried on,” she says.

  I agree but everyone knows you don’t buy the first thing you try on until you’ve exhausted every other option available. No dress will be left untried, at least not one in my size.

  “I do too but we need to be sure. Do you want me to try any other ones on before I go back to th
at one?”

  “A few more. She’s going to find some in yellow.”

  Because I’m waiting in the lounge area with my mom I hear the buzz of my phone this time. A couple in quick succession. Weird. I put the phone out of my mind and smile when the clerk comes back, her arms piled high with yellow dresses.

  Another clerk walks up to my mom and offers her sparkling apple juice. My mom takes a flute of juice and sits on the bench to wait for me.

  I duck into the room and try on all the dresses, coming out only for the ones that don’t look horrible. Yellow really isn’t my color. I know she won’t choose any of these ones.

  “What do you think?” I ask wearing the final yellow dress.

  “Well, I think the first one is the winner. It looks the best on you and there are so many lighter shades of the pink it will be easy to find one for the bridesmaids.”

  “Great! I do really like the first one.”

  I snag a sparkling apple juice when the clerk walks by again then dig into my purse on the bench to pull out my phone. Before I can swipe the screen the phone rings. Well, vibrates in my hand. Rachel’s name comes up on the screen.

  I hit the answer button.

  “Hey, Rach.”

  “Allyson, have you seen the pictures that are going around?”

  My heart beats faster. My hand trembles in my lap and the sinking feeling I’ve pushed aside since Cory left without saying goodbye is back, churning the juice I just drank.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to sound calm. It could be something else; maybe pictures from a night out last week or a new meme of a hot actor or something. Not the pictures I’ve been dreading will be revealed.

  “It’s pictures of you and Drew,” Rachel says. She’s whispering like she doesn’t want anyone around her to hear what she’s saying.

  I suck in a deep breath, my hand still shaking. I worry the flute of the sparkling juice will fall but I manage to hold onto it. On trembling legs, I walk over to the bench and sit down. My mom has noticed my actions and walks over to me, looking so concerned it breaks my heart. I don’t want her special day to be tainted in any way.