At His Desire: The Billionaire's Beck and Call, Part 7 (4 page)

“That b-bastard,” she gasped, wiping her hand
across her face. It was hard to see, especially with the streetlights so far
apart on this back country road.
How
could he?

Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. The
image of his ass clenching rhythmically as he drove into another girl flashed
before her eyes, and she choked on a sob. He’d been on
her
bed, pounding into
her
best friend during
her
birthday
party. They’d all been drinking, but when Rob told her he was going to help
Cindy lie down, she’d believed him. She’d kept mingling and laughing with their
friends, talking about God-knows-what.

Meanwhile, he’d been balls-deep in her friend who
squealed and scratched his back. It was the squeal that brought Cait to a stop
outside their door on her way to get more wine. Then, a grunt she knew was
Rob’s.

”God, I hate you,” she said to the open road.
Tears stung her eyes, the smell of Rob still clinging to the upholstery, her
nose. “I hate you.”

They’d had problems since they’d moved in together
six months ago, but she’d thought they were doing better—seeing eye to eye.
I guess I saw what I wanted to see.
Tears fell onto her new silk dress.

“Shit.”

She had half a mind to pull a u-turn and call him
out in front of all of their friends. She’d left the party without saying
anything—just grabbed her jacket and keys and driven off into the darkness. She
wondered if Rob knew she was gone, or if he was still sweating all over her
sheets.

That tiny-dicked
motherfucker.

The road went on straight forever this far from
the city. She rolled the window down, delighting in the feel of the wind in her
hair. Her tears dried on her face, and she took a shuddering breath. The night
overhead was clear, the stars burned bright above her windshield. She felt
reckless, like she was capable of anything.

She stomped down on the gas, and the car shot
forward. She laughed wildly and screamed as the jolt of the acceleration pulled
at her stomach. 60 mph. 70 mph. 85… 90. The roar of the wind filled her ears
along with the sound of her own voice whooping and hollering as she blasted
down the road.

Red and blue lights in her rearview clued her in
to the squad car chasing her down. She backed off the gas immediately, but it
was too late.

“Pull over!” The voice through the speaker was
gruff and male. “Pull over to the shoulder and turn off the car!”

Her cheeks burned as her car decelerated. She’d
never gotten so much as a parking ticket before. This night could not get
any
worse. How could she be so stupid?

Her car rolled to a stop, and the police cruiser
pulled up behind her. She sat twisting her hands as she waited for him to
approach. She was so busted. There was no way this ticket wouldn’t be
devastating. Maybe she’d even get arrested. The tinge of wine on her breath
definitely wasn’t doing her any favors.

The cop tapped on her window, and she lowered it.
He was tall, intimidatingly so, and she could tell by the way his buttons
strained over his chest that he was powerfully built. Her eyes ran over his
dark stubble and stern mouth before finally meeting his gaze.

“License and registration.”

She handed them over with shaking hands.

“Well, well. Cait Morgan. Do you have any idea how
fast you were going?”

“Um.”
Never
lie to an officer
. “90, I think.” She bit her lip, then glanced back up.

The man sighed, then looked her over, his eyes
moving over her now-tousled up do, her upturned face, then down to the plunging
neckline of her party dress.

He cleared his throat and shifted on his
feet.

Cait couldn’t help but notice a
bulge in his slacks. She blushed.
Is that
because of me?
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had that effect on
Rob, or any man, for that matter.

“What the hell were you thinking, lady? I only
pull over joyriding teenagers going that fast, and frankly… you don’t look the
type to be this reckless.”

She glanced at his nametag.
Officer Kent
. “I… I wasn’t, Officer. Thinking, I mean.” A tear
trickled down her cheek, unbidden, and she turned away, her face burning with
embarrassment.

“Hey, now.” Officer Kent leaned down to look at
her. “None of that.”

“It’s just that I’ve had one hell of a night. It’s
my birthday, and I just caught my boyfriend porking my best friend on
my
bed!” She clapped a hand over her mouth
and stared up at the officer in horror. It had spilled out before she could
stop herself.

His mouth dropped open. “You
have
had one hell of a night.” He stood up and appraised her
silently, then leaned toward her and wiped the tear off her cheek. “A beautiful
woman like you deserves much, much better than that. Don’t get yourself killed
over some asshole dumb enough to let you go.”

His rough fingers on her cheek sent a spark
through her body. This man was not only tall and built, he was straight-up gorgeous
- dark eyes and tan skin beneath wavy dark hair. She found herself wondering
what it would be like to run her hands over those hard muscles beneath his
uniform. She licked her lips and looked up to find him staring at them.

“Thank you, Officer.”

He cleared his throat again, then looked up and
down the road. There was no one in sight. “I... I’m going to have to ask you
step out of the vehicle.”

She sighed. She definitely wasn’t getting out of
this ticket, no matter how nice the cop was.
I can’t believe I chose the one country road with a cop patrolling.
Ugh.

She stepped out of the car and stumbled when her
heel met the gravel. In a flash, she was in Officer Kent’s arms, steadied
against his broad chest.

“You okay?”

His breath tickled her neck, and she could smell
the leathery musk of his aftershave. The feel of his arm muscles corded beneath
her fingertips sent a jolt of heat through her body.
I wonder what he looks like naked.
Her pussy clenched at the
thought.

She and Rob had been pulling apart for weeks, but
the sex had always been mediocre at best. Rob was only concerned with his own
pleasure, never bothering to learn what she wanted or how she wanted to be
touched. Truthfully, she’d always wanted him to be more forceful with her, to
be wilder, more passionate, but he’d been content to rut away missionary style.
No kissing. No foreplay. Nada.

Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t even
sure he knew where the clitoris was.

Why did I
stay with him so long? Was I just afraid to be alone?

She realized she was still in Officer Kent’s arms,
and pulled away, steadying herself. “I… I’m fine.”

His eyes burned into hers in the moonlight, and
she bit her lip. God, she wanted to do something crazy, something just for
herself for once. Maybe this speeding ticket was just what she needed.

“So, are you going to pat me down, Officer?” she
said, grinning.

Officer Kent stepped back and raised an eyebrow.
“I was going to ask you to walk a line. Standard procedure when someone’s been
speeding like a bat out of hell.”

“Well, what if I’m dangerous? Shouldn’t you check
me out just to be safe?”

She
couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. Was she really
teasing a cop? She knew she was pushing it, but flirting with danger like this
made her feel alive.

Officer Kent rubbed his stubble-covered chin as he
looked her over.

“Listen. Don’t joke about stuff like that, okay?
You’re in enough trouble as it is with the ticket. I don’t think I can let this
one go, even after the night you’ve had.”

He frowned, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes
lingered on her cleavage again.

She pouted her lips. “Maybe I’m just a bad girl,
Officer. Maybe a little punishment is exactly what I need. How else am I going
to learn my lesson?”

She leaned into him, running her hands up his
chest. He sucked in a breath, but didn’t stop her. She could feel his heartbeat
beneath her palm. Her hands moved upward, over his hard pecs, and ran slowly
through his hair.

“What are you doing?” Officer Kent’s hands reached
around her waist, then twitched, and moved back to his sides.

“I don’t know. “ Cait stared into his eyes,
willing him to let go with her. “I… I just need this tonight.”

***

At His Desire

Delilah Fawkes

***

At His Desire

***

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***

This is a work of
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product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is
purely coincidental.

***

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