“Handfuls of thick hair to hold onto while I pump into you, with you moaning while you gag on my cock, what more can a guy ask for?”
I groan around his shaft. Held between him and his car, I couldn’t escape if I wanted to, and being pinned in place lights me up. I can’t stay silent when he’s taking me hard like this.
“You love my cock. Admit it, Lach. Nod if you love having my cock in the back of your throat.” He pulls back until just the head is in my mouth and he tightens his grip on my hair. When I don’t give him the nod he wants, he uses my hair to make my head move in the yes motion.
He won’t let it go. “Say yes, Lachlan. Say ‘Pete, I love your cock.’”
I groan. I’m not going to say it. He pulls out, his cock poised an inch from my lips, but he’s got my head in his grip.
“If you want this dick, you have to say it.” Fuck. I need it, I fucking need it. I’m aching for more.
I’ll say anything to get it back, but when I try to lean forward to lick the bead at the tip he pulls away, teasing me.
“Say it. Say ‘yes, I love your cock, Pete.’”
“Yes, I love your cock, Pete.” My reward is the return of his hot flesh. He rubs the head against my lips in a slow circle before sliding in.
Pete moans louder as I suck harder. “Stick out your tongue.” I do. He rubs the head of his cock over the tip, teasing his slit and the sensitive notch on the underside. He slips in, filling me again. I ponder resisting but I never do. I need it.
“It doesn’t matter what you say, the bulge in your jeans before you even got out of the Jeep tells me everything I need to know.” I pull off his length to get more air, but when he says,
“You’re my good little cocksucker, aren’t you?” I reverse course and try to take him even deeper. I’m nobody’s little anything, but he’s right that I’m his cocksucker. I’ve never done this for anyone else.
At six three I’ve got three inches on him, but he’s got twenty pounds of muscle on me and always wins in anything that requires force. He learned lots of fun ways to subdue and take people down at the police academy, he uses me for practice, to keep his skills up.
I’m always terrified someone will see and there will be trouble. I’d get the blame. If anybody found out about these traffic stops, someone would find a way to make it all my fault, that I somehow corrupted their Practically Perfect Peter.
I hate this like kids hate candy. The truth is that the second I sink to my knees in front of him, my blood pressure drops and I find true peace. The rest of the world goes away, headlights included, and I’m content, happy even.
When he’s inside me I’m calm and my responsibilities, all of my promises, everything else slips away. I wrap my hand around his shaft and stroke while I slick the head with my tongue, dropping my other hand to tease his balls.
When I have a craving I can’t satisfy at home I think about speeding past the quiet industrial alley where he lies in wait for rule breakers. Sometimes he hides his gleaming patrol car next to the storage facility on the outskirts of town, but there are cameras there. In my fantasies I’m going fast enough that it takes us a few miles away from Main Street when he catches up with me, and I’m vulnerable. I could do something to earn his attention, to finally deserve to be pulled over.
Sheriff Peter is hot in his uniform, but renegade Pete turns my damn crank. I pretend that he has to use force when the truth is I am willing to give everything I have. I love it when he’s fullyselfish and takes and takes and takes until I have nothing left to offer.
At this pace he’s just going to use me, making this a quick pit stop like they do over in Indianapolis. He’s getting close, louder, pumping faster when he tells me to get to my feet, and starts pressing his lips to mine, trying to push his tongue in.
“Do not kiss me.” I won’t open. I just stand there as he presses his lips to mine and moans.
“No, Pete, no. Don’t.” He listens for shit and I’m helpless to stop his tongue from plunging in when I hear a whimper. It grows louder as he grinds into me, and I have a distant realization that I’m the source. I live for this. When I’m in the shower and I close my eyes and wrap my hand around my cock, it’s always him. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, it’s his lips I fantasize about. I dream of him dragging his stubble along my spine, sliding a hand over my hip on the way to stroke me, and how he teases my earlobe—his touch fills my dreams.
Some mornings I wake with a painful ache because in my wildest dreams I am wrapped up in him all night long.
The need just grows until nothing matters except him, the muscular lines of his body rocking against me. I can only pretend so much, the sounds he draws out of me make it impossible to disguise how much I want this.
“Do I need a condom?”
“What?” I don’t even know what to say to that.
“Has anybody else fucked you like I do since the last time I pulled you over?” He knows the answer, he just likes hearing that no one else gets this part of me.
I shake my head in response. No one else has ever been inside me. He ruined me the first time he was in my body, filling me. “No. No one else.” I flush. Even to my own ears, I sound breathless and needy. “I mean, uh, I’m monogamous.”
He chuffs in response and spins me around, pushing my face onto the warm metal of the trunk, and I scan for headlights coming from the north before closing my eyes.
“Do not move, Lachlan.” One tiny tug and my jeans finally fail in the effort to cling to my hips, baring my ass. He sucks in a breath and caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers, his hard length pressing into my cleft.
He moves to stand on my jeans where they are suspended between my ankles, hobbling me. His legs are between mine, holding me open. I couldn’t get away from him, from this, even if I wanted to.
