I exhaled slowly, deliberately dragging my lower lip between my teeth. “Make me.”
The moment the words left my mouth, he slammed my wrists harder against the wall, his other hand tangling into my hair, yanking my head back. I moaned, and it stopped him cold.
That was all I needed.
With a sharp twist, I freed one wrist and had my knee between his legs, pressing just enough to make his breath hitch.
His grip loosened for half a second, but it was enough. In a blur, I shoved him back, flipping our positions. He hit the bed, dazed for only a moment, but I was already on him, straddling his hips, pinning his wrists above his head.
His breath came ragged, his chest rising and falling beneath me. I rolled my hips against the hard bulge straining against his cargo, watching with satisfaction as his jaw clenched.
I dragged my nails down his chest, feeling the scars and tattoos beneath my fingers. “You’re so used to being in control, aren’t you, officer?”
His breathing was uneven, his muscles taut, but he didn’t fight back. His gaze darkened as her hands traced lower, teasing the waistband of his cargo. I leaned down, my lips ghosting over his ear.
“You like this, don’t you?” My fingers undid the button and slid down the zipper achingly slow. “You like being put in your place.”
He lifted his hips slightly, aiding my efforts, his body already anticipating the release. His cargo and boxers slid down his thighs. He was magnificent. Unashamed. Vulnerable.
A low, guttural sound left his throat as I wrapped my hand around his thick, aching cock, stroking once, twice—deliberate, slow torture. His hips bucked slightly, but I held him down, sinking my nails into his chest.
“Beg,” I ordered.
He exhaled sharply, his pride warring with his need. I squeezed slightly, my thumb teasing the tip, and his head fell back with a curse. “Fuck.”
I smirked. “I said—beg.”
My hands, which were trembling a moment ago, now gripped his throat. Tighter. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something… pleasure? He wanted this. Needed it. Just like me.
His defiance faltered as my fingers tightened. When I leaned down and licked him, slow and deliberate, from base to tip, he broke.
“Please.”
Aah. Just what I wanted to hear. Sounds so pleasant.
I took him with my mouth relentlessly. His hands fisted the sheets, his body coiled tight. His raw and desperate moans fueled my hunger. At the very edge, I withdrew, leaving him gasping, his cock twitching with unspent desire.
“Fuck—you little—”
I winked and climbed over him, aligning myself against his aching length, grinding slow, torturous circles that had him cursing beneath me. His hands found my hips.
I leaned down, my lips brushing against his, and susurrated, 'Show me who's a good cop, will you?
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