"I won't." She starts to walk away, then pauses. "What's your name? In case I need to file a report about the assault."
I smirk. "Rookie."
"That's not a real name."
"It's the only one you're getting, officer." I gun the engine. "Good luck in there. You're gonna need it."
I peel out of the parking lot before she can respond, before I do something stupid like offer to go in there with her, before my cock convinces my brain that fucking a cop might be worth the headache.
I'm halfway down the road when Shadow pulls up beside me on his bike, his gray eyes questioning.
"The fuck you doing at the police station?" he calls over the engine noise.
"Nothing." I focus on the road ahead. "Just dropped someone off."
Shadow's eyes narrow. "Someone? Or some cop?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yeah, it fucking matters." He pulls ahead, forcing me to follow him. "King's gonna want to hear about this."
Great. Just what I need. Explaining to my president why I punched a cop and gave his partner a ride. Why my cock is still hard from feeling her pressed against me. Why I can't stop thinking about those curves wrapped in that uniform.
Why I'm already planning how to see her again, even though I hate everything that badge represents.
Fuck my life.
Chapter 3 - Amanda
This must be a fucking joke.
I stand in the police station parking lot, watching Rookie's motorcycle disappear down the road with another biker beside him, and all I can think about is how wet I am. How my panties are soaked through, clinging to my pussy, rubbing against my clit with every step I take toward the station doors.
I was betrayed by a cop. Rescued by a fucking biker. And now my body is betraying me too.
The ride on his motorcycle… Jesus Christ, the ride. His body between my thighs, hard muscle and leather, the vibration of the engine thrumming through my core. My tits pressed against his back, feeling every flex of his shoulders, every breath he took. My arms wrapped around his waist, my hands so close to the bulge I definitely felt pressing against his jeans.
He was hard. Hard for me. A biker who clearly hates everything my badge represents was hard as stone from having me on his bike.
And I'm soaking wet from it.
I've never felt like this before. Never. Not with the handful of awkward kisses I had in college, not with the brief fumbling in the backseat of someone's car that I stopped before it went too far. I've never had sex. Never gotten close enough to even consider it. Too focused on my career, on proving myself, on being the kind of cop who actually makes a difference.
But Rookie, even his road name makes me clench, Rookie made me feel things in fifteen minutes that no one else has managed in twenty-five years.
His blue eyes raking over my body like he wanted to devour me. The way his jaw clenched when I got close. Those bruised knuckles that just punched a cop for me. The hardness of his cock pressing against his zipper, impossible to miss, making my mouth water even though I have no idea what I'd do with it.
I've heard girls talk about hate-fucks. About how the best sex comes from that razor edge between wanting someone and wanting to destroy them. But I have no frame of reference. No idea what normal sex is like, let alone fucking someone who despises everything about you while your pussy throbs for him anyway.
I adjust my utility belt, trying to create some space between the fabric and my sensitive flesh, but it just makes it worse. Every step sends friction against my swollen clit, makes my pussy clench around nothing, reminds me of how empty I am.
Reminds me of how Rookie's cock would feel filling that emptiness.
Fuck. I need to stop thinking about him.
I push through the station doors, my face burning. Can everyone see it? Can they tell I'm walking around soaked, my virgin pussy aching for a criminal who hates cops? Can they smell the arousal on me?
"Collins!" Chief Morrison's voice booms across the bullpen. "My office. Now."
