I turn on the shower, letting the water heat up while I peel off my panties. They're still damp, still clinging to my swollen lips. I drop them in the hamper and step under the spray, gasping as hot water hits my sensitive skin.
I need to calm down. Need to think clearly. Need to figure out my next move.
But my hand has other ideas. It slides down my stomach, over my mound, finding my clit already hard and aching. I bite my lip as I touch myself, slow circles that make my knees weak. I've touched myself before, obviously. But never like this. Never this desperate, this needy. Never imagining someone specific while I do it.
I imagine Rookie's hands instead of mine. Those bruised knuckles rough against my soft skin. His blue eyes watching me come apart. That hard cock pressing inside me, stretching my virgin pussy, making me scream.
I rub faster, my other hand bracing against the shower wall. The water cascades over my breasts, my nipples tight and sensitive. I'm close already, wound so tight from hours of arousal that it takes barely any time.
"Fuck," I whimper, thinking of his leather vest, his tattooed arms, the way he said *fuck the police* like it was a prayer.
My orgasm hits hard, making my legs shake, my pussy clenching around nothing. I ride it out against my fingers, gasping and moaning, wishing it was his cock filling me instead of this empty ache.
When I finally catch my breath, the reality of my situation crashes back down.
I need Rookie to give a statement. It's my only shot at keeping my job, at proving Hayes assaulted me, at not letting a predator win. Which means I need to go to the Savage Riders clubhouse and ask a man who hates cops to help a cop.
I finish my shower quickly, washing away the evidence of my desperation. When I step out, I feel clearer. More focused. The orgasm took the edge off, let me think past the throbbing need. I dry off and get dressed—jeans, a tank top, nothing that screams cop. I need to look approachable, not authoritative. Need to convince him I'm just Amanda, not Officer Collins.
My phone sits on the counter, tempting me to call my parents for advice. But what would I say? They'd tell me to report it through official channels, to trust the system. They don't understand that the system is broken, that badges protect predators more often than victims.
No. This is on me.
I grab my keys and head back to my car. I have no idea where the Savage Riders clubhouse is, but this is a small town. Someone will know.
Or I'll drive around until I find motorcycles.
Either way, I'm doing this. I'm going to find Rookie and convince him to help me, even if he hates every second of it.
Even if I have to beg.
Even if my pussy throbs the entire time, reminding me that I want more than just his statement.
I want his hands on me. His mouth. His cock.
But first, I need to save my career.
I start the car and pull out of the parking lot, heading toward the industrial district where this whole mess started. That's where Rookie appeared. Maybe that's where I'll find him again.
It's a long shot.
But it's the only shot I have.
Chapter 4 - Rookie
"You punched a cop." King's voice is level, but there's steel underneath.
He sits behind his desk in the clubhouse office, arms crossed over his chest, those cold blue eyes fixed on me. Tank stands beside him, silent and massive, his presence filling the room.
"Yeah." I meet King's gaze without flinching. "I did."
"Want to tell us why?" Tank asks, his deep voice rumbling through the space.
I shift in my chair, my cock still half-hard from the ride with Officer Collins pressed against me. "He was assaulting a female cop. Had her cornered in an alley, hands on her. She was trying to get away."
King's expression doesn't change. "And you decided to intervene."
"Fuck yes, I did." My jaw clenches. "You see some asshole attacking a woman, you stop it. It doesn’t matter if he's wearing a badge."
