“Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”
Nadine observed the voice’s owner out the corner of her eye, blowing smoke toward the sky and leaning against the wall in front of the pub.
“I’m not a hooker, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she warned the cop, wiggling her fingers so that the ring on her finger glinted in the light of the street lamps.
“Never said you were,” he assured her, holding his hands up in truce. He’d thought it, though, she was sure – gravity-defying heels that glittered red, dress in an eye-searing blue that revealed the tops of her thigh-high lace stockings, dark skin and black curls. It wasn’t a rare assumption. “Your husband always leave you in the street in neighborhoods like this?” The kind of silly question only a cop would ask, as if crime only happened to people who weren’t careful.
“My husband isn’t relevant to the situation,” she said, dragging on her cigarette once more. “Arranged marriage.” It was the easiest kind of lie to tell a man with blue eyes and carroty hair, one that only raised questions he wasn’t comfortable asking.
“Damn shame,” he said finally, and she realized with some amusement that he was admiring the view.
“I certainly think so,” she agreed, adjusting her glasses and ogling him in return. Wide shoulders, choirboy haircut – something of a baby face, but there were worse things. She squinted to read his tag in the half-light, grinned wide. “Officer Murphy?”
“I’ve already heard whatever cyborg-related joke you’re thinking of making, Mrs…”
“Call me Adia,” she decided, shading her eyes with thick lashes in as demure a manner as she was able. “So you don’t come with vibrating attachments?”
He started coughing, and Nadine realized he was covering a laugh. “Maybe I haven’t heard them all,” he acquiesced, at which point Nadine decided that it was open season on Officer Murphy’s pants.
“So you’re not planning on cuffing me, then?” she asked, discarding her cigarette in the nearby ashtray.
“Smoking on the sidewalk looking pretty wasn’t a crime last I checked.”
“What if I ask nice?” She clasped her hands behind her back and took a long step closer, secretly pleased when he took a small step back. Be afraid, my pretty – be very afraid. But not too afraid to let me touch your dick.
“Mrs – Adia?”
“I’m asking if you want to fuck,” she clarified, as if it had not been obvious from the predatory gleam in her eyes.
“I’m still on duty,” he said evasively, but she watched his eyes dart to where her dress fell high on her thighs, his weight shift as if his pants didn’t quite fit right. It was blood in the water, and she moved closer, pressed further.
“Haven’t you ever wondered?” she asked, almost innocent, one knee bent and head cocked to the side as she looked up at him. “Haven’t you ever thought about it, bending someone like me over the hood of your car, cuffing her, fucking her brains out?”
“I don’t-”
“I’m not usually like this,” she lied, biting her lower lip and shuttering her eyes once more. “But I’ve been drinking, I suppose, and… I don’t want to go home, not yet.” She bent her head away, as if to hide the tears instead of the lack of them, swallowed hard and clasped her hands in front of her chest. “He doesn’t touch me, you know.” His hand hovered over her hair, hesitant, wanting to comfort her but not quite sure yet. Immediately she spun away, retreated to a shadow in the alley by the pub. “You must think I’m awful,” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands, waiting to see if her little gambit had paid off.
“You’re not awful, Adia,” he said finally, coming up behind her to rest his hands on her arms. “You’re just lonely, is all.” Gentle fingers ran through the curls atop her head, and she could feel him breathing. “I know the feeling,” he murmured, and if he could have seen her face he’d have seen the glee of victory.
“Let me do one thing for you,” she suggested, turning to face him, “one little thing. It won’t take long, no one will ever know.” She pressed her body against his, rested her head at his shoulder.
“Our secret,” he agreed hoarsely, and she guided him against the wall, pinned him there and pulled his head down so she could kiss him. He tasted sweet, but she supposed that this was not the time for jokes about donuts. One hand dug into her bag, found a condom as the other unbuckled his belt. She slid to her knees, body pressed against his, unzipped his pants and freed his erection with a lick of her lips. Sliding the condom on with her mouth, she supposed she wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending she didn’t do this often. “Oh god,” she heard him groan in the shadows above.
“My name’s Adia,” she corrected, running her tongue along the shaft, swallowing the length of it into her mouth and against the back of her throat.
Nadine could not actually remember a time when she’d had a gag reflex. She liked to pretend it was her superpower, sometimes, that she had a mouth made for spreading joy in the form of orgasms. Perhaps she’d have been less pleased if it weren’t also so much fun, her fingers digging into thighs, the sounds that people made, the involuntary thrusts and twitches, the way her lips throbbed from the friction of a cock sliding tight between them.
She’d be hard-pressed to think of a part of sex she didn’t like, really.
Murphy certainly seemed appreciative, as she bobbed and sucked and licked and moaned, his eyes rolled back to the sky as if the better show weren’t downward. It wasn’t a surprise, when his hand slid into her hair, when he started fucking her face as if she couldn’t do a perfectly good job on her own. She slid a hand between her legs, where she was already soaked, already pulsing with pleasure and halfway to done. It didn’t take much, a slight rocking of her hips, grinding her clit against her hand as the head of his cock rammed against her throat. Her cry of satisfaction as she climaxed was buried in skin slick with spit, eyes fluttering shut as it passed through her like a wave.
The little alley echoed with muffled groans, the sound of his skin slapping against her face – and, she realized, soft sighs of Adia, like music to her ears. His whole body went rigid then, his hand forming a fist in her hair as his cock twitched at the back of her throat – again, again, again, until he released her and the tension began to leave him.
Wiping away the spit with the back of her arm, she attempted to look bashful. “Was that good?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know she was fabulous.
“Oh god, that was so good,” he assured her, disposing of the scrap of latex and zipping himself back up. She bowed her head to hide a wry smile, let her chest heave like the cover of a romance novel.
“I suppose you ought to get back to work,” she murmured, and for a moment there was no sound but their breathing in the night.
Don’t you go letting me down, Robocock.
Finally he bent down, grabbed the bag she’d abandoned on the pavement and pulled her to her feet. “Just play along,” he pleaded, as Nadine found herself being handcuffed behind her back.
“Officer Murphy,” she gasped, faux outraged, “is this your way of calling me a whore?”
“It’s not far,” he promised, guiding her along by the small of her back.
“I mean really,” she continued, as though he’d said nothing, relishing the performance despite the lack of audience. Not that the man who’d cuffed her wasn’t audience enough. “Just because I throw myself at any old ginger that comes along, begging for his cock – that doesn’t make me a whore, I shouldn’t think.”
“You are so, so bad.”
“That’s not what you said when I had your dick in my mouth.” When he slapped a hand over her mouth, panicked, she couldn’t help laughing into it.
“If I get fired – ow!” She’d bit his hand before he could finish, giggling all the while. After all, what was the point of handcuffs if you weren’t going to struggle? He released her when they got to empty side street with his car, disabled the cameras before throwing her bag in the back.
“There are more condoms in there,” she advised before he closed the door, tamping down the brief panic that he might decide not to bother.
Nadine might have been a slut, but let no one say she was not the safest slut.
She was relieved when he heeded her advice, amused when he also found a packet of lube. At the last minute he stole the glasses off her face, tossed them in with her bag. It left the world blurry, but she supposed that was better than breaking the things. He grinned as he shut the door on all her worldly possessions, pulled her closer to bend her over the hood of his cruiser. “Planning to frisk me?” she teased – before gasping in surprise when his answer was the snap of a rubber glove. Another giggle, and she spread her legs and arched her back, face pressed against the cold metal of the car.
His hands started running over her back, her hips, along her legs; she bit her lip as she felt him hike up her dress, slide her boyshorts down her thighs. Dark and abandoned though their surroundings were, it didn’t change the thrill of being exposed and in the open, didn’t reduce the feeling of risk. A groan escaped her as gloved fingers slid between her legs, rubbed gently at her swollen clit and made her hips rock. “Aren’t you supposed to read me my rights?” She gasped again as a finger slipped inside her, followed by a second.
He bent down, ran his tongue along the curve of her ear as his fingers worked inside her. “You have the right to scream as loud as you want,” he growled, and she almost came right then and there, tightening around his fingers and breathing hard. “You have the right to keep looking fucking gorgeous for me,” he continued, and if he hadn’t been behind her she might have kissed him. “You have the right to beg for mercy – and I have the right to ignore you. You have the right to beg for more – maybe I’ll listen, if you’re good.”
“Goddamn you’re fucking good at this,” Nadine groaned, forgetting for a moment that she was Adia the housewife, forgetting that she wasn’t supposed to be Dean who fucked cops like other people went birdwatching.
“You like that?” he asked, as if it wasn’t obvious, as if she weren’t hot and panting and dripping wet around his fingers.
“God yes, you’re – nnnf – fucking perfect.”
“My name’s Daniel,” he corrected, free hand sliding up the front of her dress to fondle her breasts, and again she wanted to kiss him.
“Daniel,” she breathed, and a little whimper escaped her as he leaned back, nothing touching her but those two gloved fingers as she teetered on the edge. “Oh god, please don’t stop, please Daniel.”
“I forgot one,” he explained, and she yelped in surprise as his well-lubricated thumb pressed against her asshole. “You also have the right to take it in your cute little ass.” Which was, it seemed, exactly what she needed. There was nothing to muffle her scream, this time, as two fingers in her pussy and one in her ass pushed her into another orgasm, every subtle movement sending aftershocks to follow the first wave. It was only when she’d gone completely limp against his car that he stopped, pulled his fingers out of her and cast the glove aside.
“May I?” he asked, his hands on her hips, his cock resting where his thumb had been. Just like that, she was throbbing again, could feel her pulse in her lips as she arched her back.
“Oh yes,” she purred, “please fuck my ass, Daniel, pretty please?” She grinned over her shoulder, a stray curl falling over eyes that glinted wickedly. “Show me what happens to bad girls who break the law.”
His grip tightened on her hips, his cock slowly sliding inside, and she pushed back against it to drive him further, deeper, faster. “Are you a bad girl, Adia?” he teased, stopping only halfway inside, holding her still so that she squirmed but couldn’t move herself to ride him.
“The worst,” she confirmed, breathing hard, pulling against her handcuffs and wiggling against the car to try and move him inside her. “I get drunk in bad neighborhoods and suck cock in alleys and get cavity searches in the middle of the road.”
“That does sound pretty bad,” Daniel agreed, who began moving his hips so slightly that Nadine wanted to scream with frustration. “And you didn’t even mention the adultery.”
“Oh, god, please Daniel-”
“Show me how sorry you are,” he suggested, taking his hands off her; immediately she pushed herself back, impaled herself on his erection with a groan of relief.
“If you rolled me over,” she suggested helpfully, “you could watch me be sorry.” He seemed to like this notion, pulling out so he could turn her around, lift her back onto his car and her feet off the ground. This had the side effect of letting gravity do the work for her, driving her down onto him as her legs wrapped around his waist.
“You’re gorgeous when you’ve got my dick in your ass,” he declared, both hands sliding up her dress so he could squeeze her breasts again.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” She wiggled her hips, enjoyed the feeling of fullness, of stretching to make him fit, of her clit grinding against his skin. He quieted her with a kiss, pressed his tongue into her mouth and sealed his lips against hers as he started to thrust. It was certainly one way to shut her up, to quiet the ecstatic screaming that had begun the instant he’d started pounding her ass.
Some women had difficulty orgasming even under ideal circumstances. Nadine was not one of those women.
Daniel pinched her nipples, and she arched her back, clenched her ass tighter around the cock sliding in and out of it. He had to cover her mouth again as she tossed her head back, and she bit the side of his hand. “God, you fucking love this don’t you?” He emphasized the point by holding her by the hips again, railing her harder.
“Yesyesyesyesyes – nnnnngh – yes please more thank you – ah! – that’s fucking perfect fuck.”
She let out a final, hoarse cry as his pounding pushed her over the edge, whole body drawn tight as every thrust rippled through her, from his cock to her fingertips. The sight of her climax triggered his own, and the sound of her name – one of her names – on his lips as he shuddered inside her brought a smile to her face.
They were both collapsed on the hood of his car, staring at the sky as they tried to recover enough energy to collect themselves. The handcuffs around Nadine’s wrists were becoming less arousing and more uncomfortable with each passing minute; Daniel seemed to be working toward explaining his own behavior.
“So, Officer Murphy,” she said finally, “mind driving me to Starbucks?”
Nadine Pascal-Said 