Her eyes dart around like someone might be watching, as though she’s breaking some rule. “Yes.” Her delicate fingerswork the metal latches on the front until the fabric falls to the sides and I take it from her and set it inside the cruiser.
“Better?” I ask as untie the bow of the thin cording that controls the neckline of her blouse. I pull the ends of the cord tighter and tighter until the cream fabric rests at the center of her sternum then re-tie the bow.
“You a sheriff or the fashion police?”
“Funny,” I retort as I move in front of her and open the door, secretly loving she’s got a bit of a mouth on her. The cool, air-conditioned interior mixes with the summer heat and it reminds me of the conflict churning inside of me.
I grind my molars until flashes of white light dot my vision, as I hover like a madman next to her and she places her coffee order.
“Large black with eight sugars. Super, extra hot.”
That’s it. No fru-fru whipped, mocha, frappy-chino bullshit. But, eight sugars?
I think to myself she doesn’t need that sugar to be sweet. I’ll bet a mile to a million she’s got the sweetest flavor on the fucking planet right between her legs.
“I’ll have the same,” I manage, trying not to drag her into the bathroom and fuck her until she’s unconscious.
My cock stands straight up as I try to work out her age. Young, for sure. How young, I need to find out, before I end up unemployed and incarcerated with a lifelong membership on the sex offender’s registry.
I manage to wrap up our order and look around the coffee shop. Locals are eyeing me, wondering who the exotic beauty having coffee with their sheriff is as I put my hand on the perfect arch of her back, just above her ass, and work our way to the door, then open it for her before stepping outside myself.
“Where are we going?” She smiles at me with such trust and innocence, it’s like she’s melting a glacier, thawing a long-frozen creature deep inside of me.
“Away from here,” I manage, easing us back into the cruiser and looking over to see a sparkle in her unique eyes. “I’m going to show you the most beautiful part of our town. Well, itwasthe most beautiful part of the town, until you showed up.”
She runs her tongue along the plastic lid, a drop of coffee making contact, and I hate that fucking coffee all of a sudden.
I don’t even know who I am right now. I’m taking a girl—a girl I’m not even sure is legal—with me, along with my depraved thoughts. I’m not this guy, I don’t take girls with me, especially in my cruiser, in my uniform.
“I can’t wait to see whatever this special place is.” She runs a finger over her bottom lip. “I can’t wait to show you something as well…”
Holy fuck.
Her words run through me like an electric shock, creating a new, manic throbbing in my cock as I jerk the cruiser into reverse, throwing caution to the wind as I pull away.
Chapter Six
Kezia
I’ve been playing this part for a long time but I’ve never felt like this.
I think the sheriff is playing me back but I can’t be sure. I try my best to not look down below his belt, but I’ve failed more than once and I know what I see.
It’s not the first erection I’ve seen through the fabric of a man’s pants or otherwise. I’ve been taught well, my genetics making me something most men desire. My youth and innocence seem to only entice even the most monogamous, loyal man to drool for what I have between my legs.
My mother and other sisters in our group taught me how to entice men long before I should have known, and it’s become second nature in a way. But right now, I feel confused.
Nervous.
Excited.
Things I’ve not felt before because I was always just playing my part. Doing my job. I know if I fail, I’ll suffer the wrath ofThadius. But if I succeed, I may be drawn into something I’ve never known before.
I should be scared. Small town sheriff, taking me who knows where to do who knows what with me. If something happened, it would be his word against mine and most courts and judges would surely take an upstanding sheriff’s word over a nomadic dancer who makes her living teasing men.
But, I’mnotscared. Not of him, anyway. My father, on the other hand, would kill me if he knew what was happening.
I’m never, ever to let a man take me somewhere private. He would expect me to stay at the coffee shop, flirting just enough, teasing just enough, but always staying in public.
